Don't Ever Let Go
by vegamarie
Summary: BV. Three years after the Cell Games, Bulma and Vegeta find themselves adjusting to their shifting relationship. What will happen to Vegeta when an unexpected tragedy affects the one person he cares about? Will he reach out and make a difference? R&R.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a story about Bulma and Vegeta. It's not intended to be a story about how they got together because it takes place approximately three years after the Cell Games. Instead, it's a what if story looking at the continuing development and evolution of their relationship. I hope you enjoy it and let me know through some reviews! Also, this chapter begins with Bulma's point of view and then shifts to Vegeta's._

_Chapter 1_

_Early morning_

Bulma

My gut clenches as I hunch over the toilet in my bathroom, spewing the contents of my stomach out with as much force as my body can muster. Leaning back slightly on my thighs, I wipe away the trail of spittle and vomit that somehow has managed to trail down my chin and neck as it makes a southwards trek towards my abundant bosom.

If there's one thing I truly detest, it's being sick, and vomiting has always been and always will be the crème de la crème of the things that disgust me the most. Just looking into the swirling waters inside the toilet bowl tinged an unsightly pinkish green from the bile I just regurgitated is enough to make me feel another bout of nausea coming on. Forcing my eyes close, it's almost close to impossible to will the next surge from happening, but somehow I manage to curtail it. Standing up on shaky legs, I lean over and flush the toilet, praying to Dende that this will be the only time I'll end up having to go through this ordeal today. However, knowing the cause of my condition is doing nothing to reassure me in that regard. The last time I found myself with a weak stomach, attacks could happen at almost anytime. However, I've been lucky so far so I thank the fates as I slowly make my way over to the sink to wash my hands and splash out the sour taste in my mouth.

Looking at my reflection as I quickly clean my hands, I smile wryly at the person glancing back at me. In the last few years, I have gone through a lot of changes. Some bad and some good, but overall, my face looks like it always does. Cheerful blue eyes, milky white skin, and my hair. Oh, how I love my hair. I'm forever doing things to it, never satisfied with one particular style. It has a tendency to mirror the emotional fazes I'm going through just as everyone does as they try to find the elusive answer to who they are meant to become. At the moment, it's going through a transition, just as my life has been for the last couple of years. Making adjustments is never easy, especially when life has the uncanny ability to throw curve balls at you that you never would have imagined happening. And that's how it is for me and why I've found myself in the bathroom yet again for the second week in a row.

Carefully drying my hands, I find myself pausing slightly, holding back another round of uncontrolled puking. I have to be strong and I've made a promise to myself that this time around, things are going to be much different than they were the first time. But isn't that what most people say? Yet the reality is, we find ourselves more often than not on the path of least resistance, the path that gives us the easy way out. Well, there is no _easy_ way out of my situation, but even now, I find myself worrying about the what ifs. _Especially_ about the what ifs.

Making my way out of the bathroom finally, I close the door quietly behind me and pad silently across the thick carpet as I make my way to the bed at the far side of the room. I don't even make it halfway across the expanse of the room when the covers on the bed shift, revealing the shape of my other half.

"What's wrong with you again Woman? It's not even time for me to get up and you've already spent god knows how long in there making revolting noises!"

And here, it starts. You'd think he'd be onto it by now, but either he's completely idiotic or he's purposefully avoiding the truth of what's really wrong with me. And right now, I'm not sure which I prefer. You see that's the whole quandary I've been dealing with for the last few weeks. I'm not stupid, not in the least. And since I've gone through something similar to this in the past, I'm smart enough to discern the pattern, to understand the underlying truth.

I know the symptoms and I know the cause. And having the power of reasoning, it didn't take me that long to figure it all out. But just how long will it take for it to sink into his hard head? He has the same ability to make accurate conjectures, yet often, he's either to proud or stubborn to admit to something that might make him uncomfortable. Certainly, the little truth I harbor inside my body would probably be enough to make him both uncomfortable and perhaps just a tinge uncertain. And again, that's where my problem lies.

Continuing on with the journey to my bed, I find myself smiling slightly when he shows me some small amount of courtesy by pulling the covers back slightly so that I can crawl in unhindered. Most of the time, he's a total ass, but I've become complacent with his surliness and his lack of civility because it's easier to deal with then constantly bickering about the things that will never change about him. And so when he does show some amount of kindness, I treasure those moments all the more because I know that deep down inside, he's trying to become a better person. At least, I'd like to think he is.

I'm so deep in these thoughts that I don't realize he's still waiting for an answer to his earlier question until I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning over slightly onto my side, I glance up and see his torso looming over me. His deep, endless black eyes staring at me with a look of irritation and perhaps a small amount of concern. Again I think back to how he is changing, how he is becoming perhaps what he would have been like had he not been molded into the evil being he had become at an early age. But that doesn't belie the fact that I still haven't answered his question and the fact that he's growing irritated every second I delay giving him one. I especially know this is true when he repeats the question a second time.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Such a nice use of profanity, yet that's just his way of trying to spice up the conversation while making sure I know that if I don't answer him, he'll probably resort to trying to shake it out of me.

Snuggling up next to his warm, hard body, I try to push the worry out of my system as I push him back down onto his pillow. Watching as he stiffly complies and then proceeds to cross his arms, I let out a small sigh before I give out my standard little white lie.

"Nothing's wrong with me Vegeta. Unless you consider the fact that maybe the fish I ate last night didn't agree with my stomach."

No response. Not that I really thought he would give me one. Once again, he's backed off into himself, giving off his usual cold exterior. All of this only adds fuel to the fire that's burning within me: he more than likely has already guessed the truth but is uncertain how to proceed, or better yet, react. Truthfully, I should be thankful that if he does know the truth, he hasn't exploded in anger yet. All things with Vegeta take small, precise steps, and this is most likely an extension of that. Certainly, it took until a year and half ago for him to finally move into the same bedroom as me. And even though such a thing looks like something superficial, for Vegeta to make a concession to share anything with anyone is certainly a big move. And it was only possible by taking small steps to prod him in the right direction. So that's what I plan on doing for this. I'll tell him, when I think the time is right.

Relaxing into my pillows, I glance up at his shadow covered face, his upswept hair blending into the darkness behind him. His eyes are closed and his crossed arm stance has relaxed enough for his arm opposite of me to drop off to his side of the bed. He's so peaceful looking when he's resting, not at all like the turmoil that still boils and seethes just beneath the surface of his skin. I sometimes wish he could be this relaxed all the time, but I suppose when someone has endured abuse and mistreatment most of their life, it takes a long time for their guards to be completely disabled. At one point, I'd thought I would be the one to do that for Vegeta. But I've long since given into the realization that if Vegeta ever fully recovers from the horrors of his past, it has to be because he's willing to part with blackness within, not something I can force him to do.

Letting my mind wander some more, I once again find myself thinking about the dilema I'm in. I honestly hope he's figured out the truth because that will make it much easier for me. But there's always the possibility that he hasn't, and that's what makes my innards clench with fear. We've come a long way since that first night over five years ago when we let our passions get the better of us. Yet there still is so much further for us to go, and I don't want the progress we've made with one another revert back to the way things were…the way things were before both Goku and my son from the future died.

Huffing out a breath of air, I pull myself away from Vegeta's warm body and close my eyes. Why is this so difficult for me, and am I worrying about nothing? Listening to his even breathing, I relax a small amount, letting my previous conviction take hold again. I'll tell him when the time is right, when I think he's ready. How difficult can it be to tell the man you love that you're expecting for a second time? Well, for me, it will probably be one of the hardest things I've ever done; not counting the first time I told him and he left me. But things are different. I have to believe that. I _have_ to.

Vegeta

Cracking my eyes open slightly and swallowing to allow some of the dryness in my throat and mouth to dissipate, I come to the realization that I've fallen back asleep. Letting out a grunt of irritation over my lack of self-control, I roll over slightly so that I can get a good look at the alarm clock the Woman insists on having in our stupid bedroom. For one thing, it's completely pointless because she never wakes up when it goes off and secondly, I've never understood the point of having something around that's useless. Well, I suppose it's not useless because obviously, I'm making use of it at the moment, checking to see how late it actually is. 6:22am. It's been over an hour since she woke me up with her infernal racket in the bathroom.

Sitting up slowly so as not to disturb my currently sleeping and slobbering mate, I lean up against the headboard of the bed I've become accustomed to sharing with her on a nightly basis, not just the nights when we have sex. Running my hands through my flattened hair, I swallow slightly, thinking about how much things have changed for me and how it is that I've allowed for such things to happen in the first place.

For one thing, the lateness of the hour is completely unacceptable in my book. Yet in the years since Kakarrot kissed his life good-bye, I've become lazy and complacent and both of those things do not sit well with me. Oh, the Woman certainly points out to me that I've made amazing progress considering the fact that after that idiot baka got himself killed, I had no desire to do anything. And I have to admit, in that regard, she's right. There was a point in my life, right after his death, that I'd seriously thought about never fighting or even really living again. What was the point? What did life have to offer me, a husk of a once vibrant, proud Saiya-jin prince?

Well, I still haven't figured out the answer to what life has to offer me and I certainly haven't found life on this mud ball to be all that it's cracked up to be. But for some reason, I got out of that slump. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I can't say. However, the one thing that I find knawing at me is my continued lack of motivation. I should have been out of bed hours ago, training, and yet here I am, still in bed, and sharing a bed with a lowly human wench at that! It's these things that I find bothersome and they worry me to no end. I must be getting soft and it's all because my rival, the one I was supposed to kill is gone and most of my pride was destroyed the day a mere twelve year old demi-Saiya-jin did what I could not: ascended fully beyond a Super Saiya-jin.

"Well, that's what you get for being stupid enough to mate with a human and allow yourself to get tied down onto this stupid planet." I mutter to myself before I finally kick my way out of the covers my legs have somehow become entangled with.

Making my way over to the bathroom, I make sure there isn't any vomit or drool on or surrounding the toilet before I relieve myself. I know my mate hates being sick just because of the inconvenience and the discomfort it inflicts upon her frail body. I can stand pain but one thing I abhor above all things is filth and bodily excrement other than blood. I've seen enough blood in my lifetime that if I would still have disgust for it, there would have to be something seriously wrong with me. Blood is a Saiya-jin's calling. It's what makes us long for the fight. Any self-respecting Saiya-jin would tell you that. It's too bad that my brat and myself are the only two on Earth that could be put into that category. Kakarrot's progeny have unfortunately inherited his softness.

Washing up, I frown at the toilet. Counting back mentally in my head, I realize it's been almost two weeks of waking up to Bulma's retching. I try to tell myself that it's none of my concern, but just like the corruption of weakness that I've allowed into my system, I can't stop thinking about it and why she has made no move to cure herself of her affliction. Or why she's made no move to tell me the truth about what's really causing her illness.

Throwing the wet and dirty towel into the clothesbasket I made the Woman install in her bathroom as a condition for moving in with her, my mind wanders back to her sickness. Making my way back into the room we share, I slowly walk past the bed as I make my way to the closet to get out a pair of clean shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of running shoes. Dressing slowly, I find myself drifting back over to the bed. Crossing my arms, I watch her as she sleeps for a few minutes before I finally turn around and leave the room.

Making my way downstairs into the chaos of the loony household that has somehow become my own, I pause outside of the family room when I hear the TV on playing shows that are obviously meant for stupid Earthling children. Unfortunately, my brat has an almost disgusting obsession with them, which only heightens my discomfort of what living on this planet will do to him if I'm not careful. Unfortunately for me, Bulma does not have the same idea of what it is to raise a Saiya-jin prince, which is what my son is. But that doesn't mean I cannot try to get my point across. She's so obsessed about 'love' and 'kindness' but such things do not a Saiya-jin prince make.

Stepping into the room quietly, I see his purple haired head bobbing to the disgusting sounds the colorful things on the TV screen are making. It's enough to make me want to blast the TV to smithereens right then and there. But then I'd have to deal with a temper tantrum throwing brat and my remedy for that would not go over well with Bulma. Why I should even care about what she thinks about how I treat our son is beyond me. However, it's there and I can't deny the fact that sharing a bed with her has something to do with it.

Clearing my throat, I am successful at getting his attention.

"Brat, what the hell is that shit you're watching?" I know that the Woman disapproves of my foul language, but it's one of the things that I can thumb in her face, especially when she's not around to hear it.

"Um, nothin' Papa! Just some cartoons. Can I please watch some more?"

Papa! What kind of fucking name is that to call your sire? Yet, for some reason, that's what the brat calls me and I've let it slide like a million other things. Like the fact that even though I don't like him watching that shit on the television, I'm not going to make him stop watching it. Complacency and laziness. My two best friends.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school or some other idiotic human torture session?" I growl out at him as he starts nervously jiggling his legs back and forth against the couch he's sitting on.

"Aw Papa, it's Saturday. Besides, I'm not old enough to be in school yet."

Well, I supposed that much is true and trying to converse with a four year old, let alone anyone, is enough to tax my nerves to the hilt. Shaking my head in disgust, I turn around to leave. I don't get very far before I realize that something is stuck to my leg. Looking down, I bear my canines at the four year old who has inconveniently attached himself to my leg.

"What?" I ask, proud that my voice is controlled enough so that I'm not bellowing, even though that's what I'd really like to be doing at the moment. The audacity of my son to touch me like that without my permission astonishes me, but I suppose with all the hugging and disgusting behavior my mate has instilled in him since an early age, it's no wonder he tries to touch me whenever he can. And once again, I find myself almost reluctant to correct the behavior.

Gently disengaging his grasping hands from my gym shorts, I push him away slightly and look down into his hopeful looking face that looks so much like my own. If he didn't have that god-awful limp purple hair and those blue eyes so reminiscent of Bulma's, he could probably pass off as a carbon copy of me at that age. Only at that age, I was already a killer and I had been conditioned not to show weakness or emotion, two things that my son lacks. He's an open book, but he does have a streak of Saiya-jin pride and a great deal of potential, two things that redeem him somewhat in front of my eyes even with his numerous faults. Things that my Woman wouldn't consider to be faults at all. Things that she's still trying to get me to open up to and experiment with, no matter that by doing so, I felt like I'm changing who I'm meant to become. She just doesn't know when to let up.

Snapping out of my reverie, I glance down at the boy who is my son.

"Well, are you going to answer me or are you to look at me like some sort of imbecile? Get on with it already!"

"Can I train with you Papa?"

There it is. That almost fawning, idolizing behavior. The old me would have smirked and appreciated such unconditional trust and worship but the ever since that fateful day when most of my illusions were stripped away, the day both my son from the future and Kakarrot died, I can't find such blind devotion a desirable thing. I'd fucked up big time, through my pride and arrogance, and so who was I to deserve such abject adoration, especially from a four year old who doesn't know any better? It is maddening how self-depreciating I have become. To think I've been reduced to this over the death of my rival. It sickens me and yet I feel that there is no way to get over it. Because if I did, that would require a change on my part that I still am uncomfortable about making, though the lord knows, I've made enough changes as it is. If Nappa could see me now, the old churl would think it the biggest disgrace for his prince to be reduced to such a pathetic state.

Shaking my head slightly to clear it of the stupid thoughts that are invading it at the moment, I look down at my son and give him an answer.

"No. Perhaps later, if I have time. Now go back to watching that trash and leave me alone."

Watching him slowly walk back to the couch, I know he's disappointed but I'm not going to let that bother me. I'm much stronger than that and besides, dealing with rejection is something that he's going to have to learn eventually. Better to get it over with now while he's still young instead of filling his head with idiotic dreams that will only get crushed in the end. I don't want him to end up like me.

Making my way out of the house, I do a few stretches before I start my early morning routine. I've picked up human training habit: that of running.

I know it's ridiculous for an Elite Saiya-jin like myself to run. For one thing, my conditioning is so superb that it isn't even necessary. For another, I can fly. However, for some reason, I decided to give it a try and I was hooked on it from day one. Though god forbid if anyone should ever find out about my little weakness besides Bulma and her dumbass family. I don't think I could deal with the humiliation.

So why the hell am I doing this to begin with? It gives me solitude that I crave and a chance to survey my new domain without standing out, something I've grown to like. Also, it gives me a chance to think without worrying about accidentally crushing myself under intense gravity. And that's what I'm in desperate need of at the moment. Some time to just think. About Bulma and what the hell is making her puke.

The truth is, I already now the answer, but I don't like it. One brat is bad enough. I certainly had no intention of fathering another, but there it is. It's just one more nail to hammer into the coffin that's turned into my life on Earth. One more mistake to add to the never-ending list. I don't want to live the rest of my days out on Earth, yet here I am and instead of making plans to get away, I cement myself even further by creating another life. With the woman who is my mate.

Turning around a corner, I sweep past a city street and run into the entrance of the park that Trunks likes to go to. It's a peaceful place, one that I find some small amount of pleasure in, though why someone as damaged as me can find pleasure in something as stupid as a park is beyond my comprehension. Running along, I realize that I'm disappointed with the fact that my mate feels she can't confide in me but happy at the same time as well. Happy because that way, I can pretend for a little while longer that I have a chance to get away someday. A chance to break away from the ties that bind me even though if I'm honest with myself, that chance has been gone for a long time.

I'm changing and I know it, though internally, I'm still fighting it as well. Yes, I have come to accept the fact that I do have feelings for others, that I do care for others besides myself and perhaps that's what disturbs me the most. That after all this time, I still have a difficult time acknowledging such a thing. Bulma has told me a human phrase, one that says that things are supposed to get easier with time. I have a hard time buying into such sentimental crap because my life, while it has changed a great deal since the time I was born as the destined leader of my people, it's never gotten any easier at all. And this new development, this new life I've helped to create, is only going to blow apart the fragile truce I've made with myself and the new life I'm trying to make for myself on this stinking dung heap of a planet. Deciding the best course of action is to just ignore it, I continue on with my run, letting the rising sun and the shaded trees distract me from the discomfort that such a choice will make for me in the near future.

_Well, what do you think so far? Please review! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, here it is. The second chapter. We will see how it goes. And thanks to butterflyV, Chazie, ElfPrincessKitty, Miu 09, SuperMaz and Maatlockk (especially Maatlockk for giving me the guts to publish my first chapter. Thanks!) for reviewing. It means a lot that you took the time to leave a comment. And butterflyV, I've taken your comments into consideration, as you will see in this latest installment. Hope you like it and will send me some more reviews! Thanks-Vegamarie_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters._

_Chapter 2_

Bulma-a few weeks later…

I've always wanted children. In my subconscious at least. But the reality of having children is much different then what my imagined musings ever prepared me for. Especially the reality of having a half Saiya-jin child. Granted, any child has a great deal of energy. They always seem to be bouncing around; asking questions a mile a minute, wanting to move onto the next exciting event before they're finished with what they started two seconds earlier. Multiply that by one hundred and you have the gist of what it is like to deal with a demi Saiya-jin. Which is what I'm unfortunately in the process of dealing with at the moment.

I've been down in the lab trying to concentrate on working on a new prototype for our housewares robotics department. The old line is really out of date so it has fallen to me, the genius of the corporation, to create a new prototype that is consumer friendly and easy on the pocket book. As you can probably imagine, it is not an easy or very exciting task. Yet I'm the woman who can do it. At least I would be able to do it if I wasn't inconveniently interrupted every fifteen minutes by the racket coming from the upstairs.

Sometimes I want to lock up my four year old son, or even send him to space for a few months. But of course, I know that he isn't the only mischief-maker in the house, which only makes the situation that much more annoying. And, like most men, Vegeta is conspicuously absent. Whatever happened to the idea of the enlightened family? Where the husband and wife share equally in raising and caring for their children as well as providing for them? Well, let me tell you, as far as that goes, my family is about as far from that as you can get. Not that I'm complaining, but sometimes I get really tired of playing both the mother and the father, and lately, that's how it has been around here.

Standing up from my comfortable seat in front of my desk, I let out a tired sigh and rub at the aching muscles of my neck. Rolling my head from side to side, I try to rid myself of the stiffness before I find myself marching upstairs to deal with the mess and destruction I'm sure to encounter.

I'm about halfway up the stairs leading out of the lab to the main part of the house when I find myself crashing into a moving figure. Grabbing onto the railing, I steady myself from toppling backwards down the stairs while I simultaneously grab onto the warm figure who has just run into me.

"Whoa, Gohan! Hold up a second there! You could have killed me, kiddo," I joke out half-heartedly, when in reality, my pulse has just skyrocketed. I hate the feeling of being not in control of my body and almost falling backwards down the stairs is definitely a scary sensation.

Backing up a bit on the stairs, he pushes his black, spiky mane out of his eyes and looks at me with embarrassment marked all over his features.

"Gosh, Bulma! I'm really sorry. I was in such a hurry to get you out of the lab, I wasn't watching were I was going. You won't tell Vegeta, will you?"

"No. Unless it's something important." I reply, wishing he didn't seem so nervous about my husband. It's one thing that really bothers me because I wish Gohan and Vegeta could make some sort of connection. Gohan needs a father figure that can understand his Saiya-jin nature and Vegeta needs someone to mentor, perhaps as a way to help him come to terms with himself. But who am I kidding? I don't think such a thing will ever come to pass as long as Vegeta's so unsure of himself and Gohan's scared shitless of the man who could do so much for him now that his real father is gone.

Other then his apparent discomfort around Vegeta, Gohan's a great kid. I mean, you couldn't ask for a better young man. He's protective, which I'm sure he gets from both his mother and his father, but he's also caring, considerate and extremely bright for his age. And at fifteen, he's probably the most mature teenager I've ever met. So to have him come barreling down the stairs hell bent for election could not be a good sign, especially since he's supposed to be watching over my son and his little brother, Goten. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I tap my foot nervously on the stair it's positioned on before I ask him the all-important question.

"Alright. What did those two monsters do this time?"

I can tell it's something really bad because Gohan has the unmistakable look across his face that says he's going to vomit. This unsettles me a bit because Gohan has witnessed some very gruesome and disturbing things during his short life. He fought against Vegeta when he first arrived on Earth. He witnessed Piccolo's death at the hands of the ugly Saiya-jin who came with Vegeta, and he saw both Kuririn and Vegeta get killed by Freeza. On top of that, he witnessed his father's sacrifice and saw both my son from the future and Android 16 get slaughtered by that horrible creation of Dr. Gero's: Cell. Instantly, about a million different scenarios play across my mind, each one more horrible then the first. I don't even think before I blurt out the first sentence that comes to my mind.

"How did they die?"

Grabbing onto Gohan's shoulder, I shake him hard to get him to answer my question. I don't realize it, but tears are starting to spill out of my eyes and leak down to the end of my nose, making a mess of my makeup. But at the moment, ruined makeup is the least of my worries. I have to know.

"Answer me! How did they die?" I shout into Gohan's terrified face. It's at that moment I realize he's trying to answer me but can't because of the jarring I'm giving his body. Relaxing my grip on him, I let go, only to watch him stumble backwards slightly, landing on his rear end.

"Uh, Bulma. They aren't dead. At least, I don't think they are."

Bad choice of words, especially when given to a worrier like me. In a flash, I swoop down and grab a hold of his shirt, pulling him upright in a manner similar to what Vegeta uses to intimidate those who are weaker than him. Pulling him upwards so that his eyes are locked onto mine, I snarl out the next statement, not even thinking about what I'm saying or how I'm saying it.

"You don't _think_ they are? You _don't_ _THINK_? That's not a good enough answer! Let's go find out!"

Marching up the stairs, I yank him along behind me even though I know he could easily break free if he wanted to. Maybe it's because of Chi-Chi's over protectiveness or maybe it's just that Gohan has a very compliant nature, but he makes no move to escape the oncoming explosion he knows is going to happen when I find out exactly what my son and his friend have been up to. It doesn't take me long to figure it out. Close to a few seconds actually.

There, where the wall to the family room used to be, is a huge, gaping hole. And the wall across from it in the hallway also has a gigantic hole, except this one has something lodged tightly inside it. The remains of my favorite sofa, stuffed into the wall like some sort of gigantic sausage. I'm relieved because I know my baby and his friend are most likely not injured, but I'm so angry at the moment, I feel like I could pull all of my hair out and scream until my vocal chords bleed.

"_TRUNKS!! GOTEN!! IF YOU AREN'T IN FRONT OF ME IN 10 SECONDS, I'M GOING TO HAVE VEGETA BLOW YOU INTO SMITHEREENS!! 1…2…3…"_

I really have no intention of letting Vegeta lay a hand on the two of them and it makes me feel guilty for using such a scare tactic on kids who are barely out of diapers, but it has the desired effect that I'm after. In less then five seconds, the two scoundrels are standing in front of me with terrified looking expressions on their faces. Especially Goten. The poor boy is fidgeting so badly, I'm afraid he's going to have an accident on the expensive Oriental rug he's standing on. Trunks at least knows that I would never have Vegeta do anything to harm him, but Goten is somewhat sheltered and…shall we say, special? Not that he's stupid or anything, but it's obvious he got all of his brains from his father. However, I can't lose face in front of the two of them, especially Trunks. So I continue on with my evil eye, hoping to drill into their heads that furniture is to be sat on, not tossed through a wall like a Frisbee.

Glaring at Trunks, I motion to the couch with my arm and point at it, waiting for the explanation that's going to tumble off of his lips in a few seconds. If there's one thing Trunks hates, it's being made to feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, a trait he shares with Vegeta. Unlike Vegeta, however, it doesn't take my son long to crack under the pressure, especially since he is only four.

"We was jus playin' Mama! Honest. Me an' Goten didn't mean it. It was an accident! Please don't send us to Papa!"

At this point, both Trunks and Goten's lips are trembling and Goten's actually starting to cry. Now I really feel bad: both for Goten who's scarred shitless and for the fact that everyone seems to think so lowly of Vegeta. I feel doubly guilty for using his name as a threat to my son and his best friend. No wonder Vegeta avoids everybody. Even I catch myself giving into using him as a scapegoat and I'm supposed to be his wife. Letting out an even breath, I push my thoughts to the side, to a place where I can think about them later. Right now, I have to deal with my son and his crazy behavior before he thinks he's off the hook. That will definitely happen if I don't answer him.

Crossing my arms under my breasts I let out a withering sigh before I continue on with my role as both judge and juror. Sometimes, I really dislike being a mother, and doling out punishment is one of those times.

"It was an accident? Then tell me, how could a couch end up stuck in a wall?" Instead of waiting for the circular reasoning and logic given from a four year old and his three year old counterpart's perspective, I forge on ahead.

"Are couches toys to be played with?"

They both shake their heads no.

"Do we throw couches around for fun?" Looking at Goten, I direct the question to the sniffling child. "Does your mother allow you and Gohan to toss furniture around for a game of catch?"

The boy shakes his head frantically, no doubt thinking that if he ever got caught doing something like that, he'd receive the spanking of a lifetime. Which, by the way, is mostly likely what's going to happen when he goes home because I really don't have the authority to punish Goten, but he needs to be taught a lesson, one way or another.

"Okay boys, this is what you are going to do. You are going to help Gohan pull the couch out of the wall and put it back were it belongs. Then Trunks, you are going to go to your room and take a nap." At the dreaded "n" word, Trunks scrunches up his face in a defiant look, but I don't allow him to throw a temper tantrum because I continue on with my ultimatum. "I'm going to call up Chi-Chi and tell her what happened. She will deal with you Goten. After you pull the couch out, I think it would be a good idea for you boys to go home." Raising my eyebrows at both Gohan and Goten, I wait for them to shake their heads in understanding.

With that said, I watch as the three of them try to right the wrong that Trunks and Goten had just made. I don't like sending the two boys home so early, mostly because I know that Chi-Chi sends them here to get some much needed 'alone time'. And although I know she doesn't like or trust Vegeta much, I have a feeling she also sends her boys over to spend some time with an adult male because other than Piccolo, the two of them obviously don't get that sort of attention. It's unfortunate that nine times out of ten, they don't get any interaction with Vegeta either. And if they do, it's because he's yelling at Goten for some infraction or he's allowing Gohan to spar with him, which rarely happens. But I don't tell that to my friend, and I'm sure that neither Goten nor Gohan say anything to her about Vegeta either.

I supervise the boys on the progress they are making with putting the couch back in the family room. In a few minutes, the task is done. Except for pieces of plaster stuck all over the side of the couch that was unfortunately lodged inside the wall, it looks perfectly fine, which is a relief. Motioning for the boys to come forward, they follow me into the kitchen, where I hand Goten and Gohan a snack for the trip back to Mt. Pazou. I also give one to Trunks, who scarfs it down in under a minute. Walking the two boys to the front door, I give them each a hug and wait as Trunks says goodbye to his friends before they leave. Once they are gone, I turn around to face my guilty looking, sulking little prince.

"Okay Trunks. You know what I said. Upstairs!"

Thankfully, he's decided to take his punishment respectfully without having hysterics. I think the truth is that he really is tired, just like most normal kids his age would be. Following him up the stairs to his room, I help him take his shoes and socks off and get settled into his bed, handing him the security blanket he's slept with ever since he was an infant. Smoothing his purple hair back, I lean over and kiss him on the forehead, letting him know that I love him even though he can be a little trouble maker.

Looking up at me, he yawns and stretches his little arms out.

"Mama, is this it?"

I know what he's asking, and what kid wouldn't? Taking a nap does seem to be kind of lame, especially since it's obvious that he needed one. I think about it for a moment before I give him an answer.

"Look Trunks, you really scared Mommy by doing that. I know you're strong for your age, but throwing something around as big as a sofa is dangerous. How would you have felt if it would have landed on Goten or Gohan and hurt them? Not very good, huh?" I watch as he shakes his head slowly in understanding.

I know that this might be a hard lesson for him to learn, especially when Vegeta really starts training him in the art of fighting and possibly killing an opponent. I want him to know what is acceptable behavior, how to treat those weaker then himself. I want him to know the difference so when he does start learning what it means to be a Saiya-jin, he won't become some indiscriminate killer. I don't think Vegeta will actually teach him to do things like that because when it all boils down, I really don't believe Vegeta is comfortable with his past. Oh, when he first came to Earth and even after we first came together, he would boast about his conquests and his ability to kill without remorse. But I'm sure that does not hold true for him anymore, which could be part of the reason he's become so quiet and alone these last few years. Looking down at Trunks curled up in his bed, his eyelids starting to droop, I tell him what is going to happen.

"I can't let this one slide baby. I'm going to have to talk to your father, and then we'll see what will happen from there, kay?" Thankfully, he just nods his little head and a few minutes later, he's down for the count.

Leaving the room quietly, I carefully close the door and walk across the hallway to my own room. The truth is, I feel exhausted, and while I haven't been throwing up as much, I still feel continuously ill. It's difficult to get up everyday and pretend that nothing's the matter with me, but I have to do it. I was hoping this pregnancy would play out differently then the last, but if anything, this one is worse. And it's made doubly worse because I still haven't gotten up the courage to tell Vegeta, something I did manage to do the first time I experienced the joy of carrying a child. I feel like I'm living a lie and I'm beginning to hate it. And part of it is because I'm almost positive Vegeta knows the truth and that's why he's been making himself scarce. What must he think of me? God knows, it probably isn't anything good if he's avoiding me.

Walking over to my bed, I lie down and pull the covers up over my body, completely forgetting about calling Chi-Chi. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I feel as though a gigantic weight has been lifted. Relaxing slightly, I make a decision that I'm going to tell him the truth when he gets back today, consequences be damned. I can't keep feeling worried and guilty; two things that probably aren't helping the developing child in my womb grow. Even if he isn't ready to hear the news, since he's probably already figured it out, I might as well get it over with. I don't want him to dislike me any more then he already does.

& & &

Vegeta

I stare at the desert below me: the ruined expanse of landscape that holds the images of memories burned into the back of my head. Images of my rival winking out of existence to never return again superimposed with images of his son defeating the creature _I _allowed to come into being because of my arrogance and pride.

Sitting up on the rim of the crater that was created from the immense amount of energy expelled during the final fight against Cell, I let these thoughts run through my head over and over again. It's my self-imposed punishment: to see what happened because of my overrated pride like a broken movie reel. Perhaps such a use of mental imagery isn't healthy, but what the fuck? My mind has been mentally unbalanced probably as long as I can remember. At least going as far back as to when I began my enslavement underneath Freeza. So while self-depreciation most likely wouldn't be classified as something normal to do with one's spare time, I don't care about normalcy. However, I do wish I could feel the way I used be before Kakarrot's death.

Growling slightly in irritation over my stupid thoughts, I slowly stand up and dust off the thin layer of grit and dirt that has settled onto my training suit. The sun is sitting halfway above the horizon and while the afternoon heat has started to dissipate, it's still uncomfortably warm. Besides, even I get tired of sitting and thinking for hours on end and my stomach is starting to growl, reminding me that I haven't eaten since the early breakfast I made myself before I left to come out here.

Glancing back to the bottom of the crater, I feel that awful recurring sensation of deep shame well up inside of me. Shame that I caused this to happen when I allowed Cell to absorb that Android whore instead of beating him when I had the chance. Hating the feeling, I swallow hard and then start to power up. Watching the rocks as they begin to lift off the ground, feeling the earth shake beneath my feet, I scream out into the desert, letting the wind carry the sound of my roar of anger and underlying anguish. I hate feeling like this. I hate it! As quickly as I start, I quit, not even allowing myself the joy of ascending. I just don't have the energy for that today. Kicking a rock with my boot, I push off the ground and find myself flying back to the place where I live.

It only takes me about fifteen minutes and I find myself soaring over West City, ignoring the stupid people and imbeciles that make up the majority of the population. In a few seconds, I power down and land in front of Capsule Corporation. Normally, when I come back from being gone all day, I slip in through the window of the bedroom I share with the Woman. However, today, for some reason I can't even fathom, I decide to use the front door. Walking up to it, I press in my stupid security code so that the door will open up for me.

Moving inside, I blink to help my eyes adjust to the dimness of the house compared to the bright sunlight spilling in from the outside. Walking into the entryway a small amount, I realize that something doesn't seem right. It takes me a second to figure it out. It's quiet. Dead quiet. For some reason, this unsettles me. I know that Kakarrot's brats were supposed to be here today and whenever my brat gets together with mini-Kakarrot, there's enough racket going on to make me want to put permanent silencers on the two of them. Cautiously walking farther into the hallway, I power up slightly and put my guard up. Something is wrong.

Silently padding down the hallway, I stop suddenly when I see it: a gaping hole in the wall of the family room that wasn't there when I left earlier that morning. My throat becomes dry and I try to push away my growing unease. Except for the hole, everything else seems to be in place.

But where the hell are my brat and my mate? I know the two old people are gone for the week, but usually some stupid game or event is going on when I get back from my solitary travels. The continued silence is starting to unnerve me, and what creeps me out the most is that I'm feeling any sort of discomfort at all. Another sign of my growing softness and weakness. Hissing in disgust with myself, I check out the rest of the rooms downstairs looking for any sign of their whereabouts or that of an intruder. Finding nothing, I silently make my way upstairs.

Creeping down the hallway and hiding in the shadows, I slowly make my way to my son's bedroom. Pushing the door open manually, I sneak inside, glancing around quickly. Almost as soon as I enter his room, I see a lump in the middle of his bed, which turns out to be my missing brat. Sucking on his thumb like a baby and holding onto that ridiculous blanket he's had as far back as I can remember. Gritting my teeth slightly at how coddled my son is, I use my irritation as a front to hide the true fact that I'm relieved. But that doesn't explain where my woman is at the moment.

Closing the door behind me, I walk across the hallway and open the door to the room I share with her. She's lying on the bed with her back turned towards me, one arm tucked underneath the pillow resting below her head. Her hair is an awful mess, tangled across the pillowcase and sheets. Walking slowly over towards her, I seat myself on the edge of the bed. Letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding, I relax somewhat. She's safe. That's all that matters at the moment.

Taking off my boots, I drop them slowly next to the bed before I push my legs up and cross them. Turning to the side, I glance at her sleeping body. Was she like this when she was pregnant with Trunks? I can't remember because…because I had left her. I couldn't deal with the ramifications the first time around and I'm having an even more difficult time dealing with them the second. But I have no excuse to leave this time, no reason to get me out of this situation. So I'm stuck, but part of me, the weak part of me, doesn't really want to leave anyway. Where the hell would I go?

What ever happened to the killer inside of me? It still lurks around the corners of my mind, but with my rival gone, my ambition to be the best has dimmed somewhat as well. Which brings me back to the reason my life has been stuck in a circular rut ever since my reason for coming to this shit hole disappeared in the first place.

Resting my head in my hand, I look at Bulma, trying to clear my mind of these never ending, torturous thoughts. I'm evil. I've always been that way and probably always will be. But there is nothing left to direct that evil towards and I'm still trying to find that purpose. I feel empty, and even though I make the motions to keep going through this second hell I'm living through, I'm beginning to tire of the monotony.

Shaking my head slightly, I hesitantly touch Bulma's hair, feeling the softness glide underneath my rough and dirty glove.

Why? Why does she trust me? Why does she care about me? Why does she try to show me that I can be accepted, something I've never been in my entire life? And then why, after all that, can't she tell me about the life I've created with her for a second time? It's almost like a betrayal of sorts, fucking with my screwed up brain.

Watching her, I keep stroking her hair because for some reason, I can feel a connection with her. But everything is so different from what it was like when we first began living together under this roof. She's the first person I can say that I've gotten to know underneath their exterior. Perhaps that's what's driving my confusion. The fact that she's let me inside even when I didn't want that, and now, it feels like she's trying to pull away from me, pushing me away from her. And it bothers me more then I would have thought possible. I don't understand. It makes me angry, but more importantly, it hurts.

I don't know how long I sit there in my filthy training gear touching her hair when she starts to stir from her sleep. Quickly moving my hand into my lap, I look forward towards the wall, pretending that I could care less about her movements. Glancing at her with my peripheral vision, I watch her as she rolls over onto her back, blinking the sleep slowly from her blue eyes. Licking my lips slightly, I watch as she unconsciously trails her hand down towards her belly. Even though I know she isn't even aware of what she's doing, it has the unintended result of fascinating me and arousing me. At least that part of my brain is still functioning, but at the moment, I would rather not be thinking such licentious thoughts. Blushing slightly, I unconsciously move closer to her, making her aware of my presence for the first time.

I watch as she sits up slowly. She looks like shit. Her face is paler then usual and there are dark circles under her eyes. And her eyes. They reflect the sadness and confusion that are no doubt showing in my own. Smiling wanly at me, she leans back against the headboard, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Vegeta, how long have you been sitting there in your stinky clothes?"

I just grunt as a reply. I'm not really in the mood to talk. Unlike her, I don't find the need to converse unnecessarily. Even though I know there are things unsaid between the two of us, I don't want to bring up the thing she still hasn't told me. I don't feel that it's my place to do so. I'm not going to beg. I refuse to ever show such weakness in front of her or anyone else for that matter.

"I take it not that long. Or maybe I've been asleep longer then I thought." I watch as she looks at the clock, a slight look of shock crossing her sickly looking face.

"God, I've been in here…" She trails off. Suddenly, she sits ups straighter, agitation clear in her body posture and language.

"Shit, I never called Chi-Chi. And Trunks…"

She's about to try to jump off the bed to check on our brat when I grab her arm, effectively pulling her up next to my body.

"The brat's sleeping."

"Oh. He's not doing anything bad?"

Narrowing my eyes at her, I don't like the insinuation. That I'm not capable enough to check up on my own progeny. Well, I know I'm a shitty father. At least in her eyes I am. But to think that I would lie to her about something as stupid as whether or not our son is making mischief insults me and cuts deeper then it should. Especially since she's been lying to me by omission for weeks. With that, I stand up quickly, feeling a stab of guilt when she teeters sideways across the bed.

"What do you take me for, an imbecile? Woman, I'm at least intelligent enough to know when that hellion is sleeping."

Crossing my arms, I make my way towards the bathroom, deciding to get myself cleaned up. I don't particularly like smelling like sweat and dirt and I can't stand the feel of the grime that's gotten underneath my training shirt and pants and into the nooks and crannies of my gloved hands. I'm almost to the door, when she speaks up from the bed.

"Vegeta, wait."

Turning my head slightly, I direct a cold look towards where she's sitting on the bed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I know you know when he's sleeping. It's just been a bad day."

Grunting, I turn around fully, knowing that she's more then likely going to start some sort of elaboration about her terrible day and that if I don't at least pretend to listen, she'll screech at me or get back at me when I least expect it. She's the only person who has that sort of power over me and it baffles me because in the grand scheme of things, she's nothing. Putting my hands on my hips, I wait impatiently for her to start her speech.

"I haven't been feeling the greatest and I've been trying to get the houeswares line up to date. And on top of that, I assume you saw the giant hole in the family room wall?"

At this, I smirk slightly; trying to hide the fact that for a moment, I thought something or someone other than my son had caused it. Bulma, of course, misreads the look on my face and decides that I think it's some sort of joke. Standing up from the bed, she marches over to where I'm standing so that we're eye to eye.

"It's not funny or even amusing Vegeta! And maybe, if you would spend some decent amount of time with your son, it wouldn't have happened!"

It doesn't take long for her accusations to sink in and they make me extremely angry. Pushing forward so that my nose is almost touching hers, I hiss into her face.

"Oh, so it's my fault, is it? Well, let me reiterate something to you Woman. He may be my son, but I'm not his goddamned babysitter! As far as my responsibility goes towards him, it's to make sure he grows up to be a strong example of a Saiya-jin Prince. Not some coddled, pampered, spoiled brat the way you're making him."

This is an old argument of ours; one that hasn't been brought up in a long time because of the fact it has a tendency to become extremely nasty. Avoidance is sometimes a blessing. After spitting my sentiments out towards her, I don't have long to wait before a retort rolls off of her venomous tongue.

"It's called love Vegeta, something I'd think you'd understand somewhat by now. You didn't have it when you grew up and I'm not going to let Trunks grow up that way either. And no matter what you say to the contrary, I'm pretty sure you don't want him to end up like you either."

Stepping back slightly, I'm suddenly unsure. She's never taken our argument in this direction before. Usually, it's all about how I'm not even making him into a Saiya-jin Prince because I don't have the patience to teach him, which isn't true. But to throw my past in my face like that and to say what I've thought about myself, how I don't want Trunks to end up making the same mistakes as me, is almost unbearable. It's as though I can never get away from the anguish festering inside me, and now, she's laid the gauntlet down. I can either run away and lose face, or admit to her statement's validity. Instead, I decide to change the focus of the argument.

"Love! Ha! You profess that perfect emotion to me over and over again yet you can't even tell me the truth. So much for such a petty _feeling_. I'm beginning to wonder if it even exists at all!"

At this statement, her already pale visage becomes ghostly white as she unconsciously steps away from me. But I'm not going to let her go. Not until she admits to me what she's been so desperate to hide. Stepping forward towards her retreating body, I take a hold of her arm and pull her into a tight embrace. Anger is simmering just below the surface of my skin and I can tell she's afraid. Am I really that horrible to her all of a sudden that she doesn't even like touching me? And why does this continue to bother me? I want to curse Kakarrot and his stupid death for doing this to me. But instead, I have to settle for getting some answers from my reluctant mate.

Pushing her chin up so that she's looking into my eyes, I wait for her answer, knowing it's about to come soon because of the way she's nibbling on her lower lip in a nervous manner.

"Okay, I suppose you already know."

That's it? That's all she's going to say to me? Well, that is definitely not good enough. I know what she's trying to do. She's trying to ascertain exactly how much I've deduced so that she won't feel so guilty for withholding information. The truth is, I'm sick of playing games and have been for a long while, and I'm not going to let her have the upper hand in this. I've had enough. Pulling her in even closer, ignoring the fact that I could possibly be suffocating her with my grip around her midsection, I wait.

"Vegeta, let go a little! I need to breathe, you big bully!"

"Not until you give me a fucking answer and stop playing these ridiculous games with me! Now tell me the truth!" I shout into her startled face, baring my teeth at her. I will not be a pawn for her or for anyone else. That time of my life is long over. I live for myself, even when I'm not exactly sure what that reason for living is anymore.

"Fine! You want to know the truth so bad? Well here it is: I'm pregnant again! Now let go of me."

With the statement out in the open, I loosen my grip enough to let her breath easier, but I don't let her go. With her admission, some of my earlier anger dissipates but the betrayal from her lack of trust is still lodged deep inside whatever heart I have. Moving one of my hands up to frame her face, I push a lock of her hair behind her ear so I can see her eyes better. Before I even know what I'm doing, a question rolls off of my tongue.

"Why Woman?"

She knows what I'm really asking so she clears her throat slightly, taking in a deep breath.

"Because I was afraid."

Afraid of me, I want to ask? Afraid of what I might do? But whatever small amount of pride I have left won't allow me to ask those questions so I just leave it at that. I don't want to have to admit that I'm also afraid of what this new child is going to mean for me. Nothing ever seems to be clear anymore.

Deciding that I don't want to think about any of this at the moment, I allow myself to cave into the feel of her body pressed against my own. Even though I know she doesn't feel well and I probably smell horrible to her, touching my mouth to hers is the one way I've learned to quell my thoughts and my inner demons, at least temporarily. Giving in, I lean forward and press my lips to hers. I know that she still is angry with me for manhandling her like that, but she doesn't try to escape from it, and for that I'm grateful. I don't think I could take another sign of rejection from her. When it comes down to it, in the back of my mind I know that she's the reason I'm here and she's what has kept me centered since the time of Kakarrot's idiotic death. Without her…I shudder to think of what I would have become. And maybe that's why her lies and omissions have bothered me more then they should have: because I care about her and for once in my life, I would like it if she kept caring back about me. No one else in my life has ever done that for selfless reasons.

I don't know how long we stand in front of the bathroom touching each other and giving some modicum of comfort when she starts to pull away. Letting her go, I watch as she backs up awkwardly and rubs her arms absently. She doesn't say anything about her pregnancy, of which I'm glad. Such conversation would only cause me to feel angry again. Instead, she brings up the hole in the wall downstairs.

"Vegeta, I don't know if Trunk threw it or if Goten did, but the fact remains, it happened. Trunks is probably going to wake up in a little bit. I told him I'd talk to you about punishing him. I know he probably didn't mean for their playing to get so out of hand, but…he doesn't know his own strength."

I know what she's trying to get at, so I let out a sigh of defeat.

"I'll take more of an interest in his training. As long as he acts in an acceptable manner."

"Vegeta, he's four. He doesn't know how to act self-controlled and stoic like you. All he wants is some attention and approval from you. And who knows, maybe it'll help you get out of this second slump you're in."

I don't like the implications of her last statement but I let my irritation slip through the cracks as I pretend she never said anything. All I do is nod my head.

"Well, what about an appropriate punishment? It was more or less an accident and maybe with some training, he'll get rid of some of his nervous energy."

"Woman, I don't find the offense that grievous. But if you want to punish him, by all means do so."

Deciding that this conversation is over with, I turn around and head towards the bathroom, leaving Bulma looking at me quizzically. I'm sure she thought the hole in the wall would have generated a larger reaction then the one I gave her over Trunks and his punishment. The truth is, had I been there when it happened, the boy probably wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. But since I was thankfully out of the house when it occurred, I didn't have to deal with the inconvenience of being the enforcer. Besides, I myself have made bigger disasters throughout Capsule Corporation due to my colossal temper, so who was I to judge my son? I'm about to open the door when Bulma calls out my name again. Letting out a sigh of frustration, I still my motions and wait for her to say what it is that's on her mind.

"I'll tell him he can't have dessert for the rest of the week. That should do the trick, don't you think?"

"Fine." I state sharply. I'm beginning to tire of her incessant nagging and my smell is starting to finally get to me, not saying how much it must be making Bulma want to gag. Besides, no desserts for my brat will probably traumatize him and it has an added bonus because I can consume his portion. I have to admit, Earthling desserts are one of the few things this planet boasts that makes staying here somewhat bearable.

Deciding to make sure our conversation is at an end, I ask her if that is all she wants to say. When she says yes, I finally open the door and walk inside. Closing it behind me, I quickly strip out of my dirty training suit, throwing it into the hamper. Making my way over to the shower, I turn the water on and wait for it to become nice and hot, steam billowing out and over the glass shower door. Stepping inside, I scrub myself clean as I watch the grime from my body sloughing off in dirty streams of brown water.

Letting out a sigh, I lean up against the shower wall, crossing my arms. I let the details of our argument flit past my mind. Something seems to stand out to me and that's the fact that besides not putting her trust in me, it's clear that Bulma doesn't think I'm capable of love. True, I do care about her and my son, more then I will ever admit to them. But love is such a strange concept to me and I really don't understand it, even after being with Bulma for over five years. I know that she whispers that word to me after we have sex and when she thinks I'm asleep. She also tells our son that she loves him almost every opportunity that she gets the chance to. But what does it really mean? And can she actually love me, especially when she can't trust me enough to tell me about getting pregnant?

I've always thought of love as a weakness to be exploited. Perhaps it's because when I was a child, any idea of love was taken away from me at an early age. My mother died soon after I was born and my father sold me to Freeza. I had to fight in order to have my basic requirements met. So is it any wonder that I'm still confused about it, especially when she's right in saying that I don't want Trunks to end up like me, no matter how much I detest Bulma's rearing methods? And now that I'm about to have a second child, how am I supposed to act towards them when I don't even know how to treat my first born? Sometimes, I almost wish I had never given into the temptation of Bulma's body the first time we mated. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided. However, had I not found her, I'm sure that I'd most likely be in a worse state of mind then I'm currently in. At least I do have somewhat of a purpose, and that is to protect my family, no matter how undeserving I am of them. And that idea does give me some modicum of comfort, no matter how confused I am.

End of Chapter Two! I hope it wasn't too ambiguous of an end. Bulma has told Vegeta the truth and now Vegeta has to take more of in interest in Trunks. Will this help to smooth out Vegeta's uncertainties and will he be able to forgive Bulma for her lack of trust?! Please, be kind and send me reviews. Thanks-Vegamarie


	3. Chapter 3

_Yeah, I finally updated! Sorry about the delay. I can sum it up in one word: school. Anyway, thanks to Essence-chan, Maatlockk, pormychan, Llamachick, Pearl3, Kitsune of 1000 Years, kate, SuperMaz and Cappuccino Penguin for reading and reviewing! Hope this chapter makes sense. It was hard to write._

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters. 

_ Chapter 3 _

Vegeta

_About a month later..._

Then sun is shining down warmly, it being what one would call a fine autumn day. The wind rushing through the trees as the clouds dance merrily across the sky, fleeting wisps of whiteness cottony against a blue backdrop. Snorting in my head at how ridiculous my stupid thoughts are, I shift my attention back to the shape of a small figure twitching impatiently, sitting on the front lawn in front of Capsule Corporation.

Crossing my arms, I roll my eyes in exasperation as the small body tries in vain to focus their mind on the lesson at task. Is it any wonder that I have little to no patience with my brat? For all that he has the long lineage of powerful Saiya-jin kings in his blood, the human weaknesses he inherited from his mother are shown to me over and over again whenever we have training sessions together. He's like a loose canon with a fleeting attention span and the more time I spend with him, the shorter my patience becomes.

We've been working on controlling ki energy, something I was able to do quite successfully at his age, even killing my first Saibaman that year. Yet for all that I can sense the untapped potential my young son has, he doesn't seem to have the ability to focus on anything for more then a few minutes at most and my temper has become shorter and shorter the more time I spend in his hyper-active company.

"Trunks!" I bark out harshly, watching as his blue eyes snap to my face.

"What the hell are you doing? I didn't come out here with you this morning to watch you act like an idiot. Focus your mind on the task at hand! I don't have all day to waste on you and your rambling thought process."

Watching as his lower lip trembles slightly from the harshness in my voice, it takes all of my self-control to not go over to him and bodily toss him through the air. If there is one thing I cannot stand above almost anything else, it is the whining crying of an upset child. And when my son meets his breaking point, instead of blowing something up, he bawls and sobs just like his mother has the unfortunate habit of doing. Grinding my teeth in total frustration, I take a step closer and shake my fist at the cowering brat in front of me. How he could be my son is still a mystery, but there is no denying the fact that he is mine, no matter how many times I might wish it to be otherwise.

Towering over his small frame, I fold my arms across my chest in disgust.

"Listen up brat. You have two choices. You can either act like a Saiya-jin Prince or you can go sniveling back into the house like a spoiled baby. It's up to you."

With that said, I turn my back on him and walk a few feet away, waiting for his response. Closing my eyes, I count to ten before I turn around, something the Woman taught me as a way to concentrate my anger before letting it boil off in a huge explosion. Amazingly, the trick actually does work, but I'm more interested to see what my son has decided for himself instead of marveling over the growth in my self-restraint.

"I'm not a baby!" He shouts out towards me, trying his best to look intimidating.

Smirking slightly, I watch as the brat focuses his misery into anger, an emotion I have intimate knowledge of and am better able to deal with then crying and dejection. I want my son to become strong and the only way that can ever occur is if he gets over his foolish propensity to tear up from every harsh word that's uttered towards him. Had he been born on Vegeta-sei, I'm sure he would not have lasted long from the harshness of court life and the competitiveness between high ranking Saiya-jins and their offspring. Even though Bulma objects to the way I treat our son, I would rather treat him with some amount of harshness then have him end up as a pansy. I want him to become like the Trunks from the future timeline. True, he also had the annoying habit of getting on my nerves, trying to vie for my attention and affection. But when push came to shove, he acted like a man, not some weakling sissy. If my son keeps on with his hysterical nature, I shudder to think of what he's going to turn into as an adult.

Turning my full attention onto my offspring, I let out an irritated grunt.

"Fine, then show me that you aren't a baby by concentrating on pulling up your ki and singeing the grass in front of you. And do it quickly!"

I watch as he closes his eyes in concentration. Trunks has the ability to pull up his ki at will, but what I'm trying to drill into him is the importance of controlling the energy, not just letting it out in a willy-nilly fashion. Yet for some reason, he has had an extremely difficult time figuring out how to minutely control the output of ki energy he has naturally occurring in his body. I know that my mate thinks I'm trying too push things too far and too quickly with him, but the fact remains that when I was his age, I was already doing much more advanced techniques, already having learned the basics of ki manipulation at a much younger age. I know she thinks that I shouldn't compare his progress with my own, but I have no other reference point to go from and I'm certainly not going to look at Kakarrot's spawn as an example of how hybrid Saiya-jins learn instinctual techniques. That is where I draw the line.

Turning my attention once again back onto my concentrating son, I can feel the energy starting to pulse throughout his body. While it is true that he has many years before he will reach his true potential, he already is on par with a Super Elite Saiya-jin, much like I was at his age. Bulma is correct in thinking that he's the equivalent of a weapon and for that reason and that reason alone, I have finally decided it's worth my while to begin training my brat. I'm not doing it to prove anything to her, but deep down inside, I know that isn't quite true either. For some reason I don't understand fully, I want her to have the trust in me that she used to have not that long ago. Before she decided to start hiding things on me. Before I started spiraling down the path of confusion again. The path that's been hounding me since my rival died and I was left here without a tangible purpose beyond taking care of the family I never wanted in the first place.

Trying to shake off my self-directed thoughts, I narrow my eyes at Trunks.

"What is taking you so long brat? Do it now! I have more important things to be doing then babysitting you."

Quirking my lips in a subtle smirk, I watch as his body trembles, either from the force of manipulating his ki or from anger over my insult. Taking a step towards his small body, I stop when I notice the grass directly in front of us is waving slightly, although there is no noticeable breeze. Swallowing slightly, I still my movements, waiting to see the results of my taunting working on Trunks' need for approval. It doesn't take long for the effects of my unorthodox training to reveal themselves.

In less then a second, Trunks' cowering stance suddenly asserts itself. Snapping his eyes open and screaming at the top of his small lungs, I watch as my brat throws his arms out wide and lets out the full force of his anger, directing it towards the source: me. In an instant, I pull up my guard, blocking my untransformed state from the sudden explosion of ki. It feels like my body is being pummeled by a windstorm and then the feeling changes to one of intense heat. Although I'm much stronger then my untrained offspring, his attack caught my by surprise, never having faced the full wrath of his temper that taps into what makes a Saiya-jin a Saiya-jin: the animal inside each of us. I try to cancel out his attack before he ends up flattening part of our home and the surrounding area, but almost as soon as it has started, it ends abruptly, leaving me slightly shaky from the encounter. Straightening up, I glance over at my son, who is sitting in a slouched position, crying again like the baby that he is. Growling in disgust but relieved that he hasn't accidentally hurt himself, I brush the dirt and grass off my sweatpants.

Straightening up, that's when I notice it. The grass in front of our home is alight, a small blazing inferno. I don't even realize what I'm doing until after the fact. Jumping over the flames that separate me from my son, I grab him around the waist and toss him over my shoulder. Floating a few meters above the scorching lawn, I use my own ki to cool off and extinguish the flames before I land and drop my son back onto the ground in front of me. Surveying the damage, I know that both Trunks and myself are going to be in for an earful from my harpy mate. But at the moment, I'm too angry with myself to care. For once, I regret my harshness and foul temperament, realizing that I somehow goaded Trunks into releasing the full extent of his power without thinking of the effects that would have on someone as green as he is. He could have been hurt, or worse, Bulma could have been killed had his ki moved in the direction of the house, leveling it in an instant.

Easing the shaking in my hands, I push myself away from Trunks, trying to assert the old part of me that would have laughed at the disaster I had just averted. However, my uneasiness does not dissipate. Instead, it hovers over me, sinking deeper into my subconscious. I should have known better then to try to teach my son in such a manner, but that's all I know how to do. The thought of actually treating him in a kinder way has crossed my mind, but that isn't part of my nature. Moreover, I'm not going to lower myself by acting in a way contrary to my personality. Growling under my breath, I do the only thing I can think of at the moment to reassert myself in my moment of weakness. I lash out at my brat.

"Trunks! Look at this! Is that how a Saiya-jin Prince behaves, letting his emotions get the better of his reasoning?"

I watch as he shakes his head in misery, feeling guilty because I know that there have been more times then I can count where I have let my pride get the better of me in a tough situation. Images of Kakarrot and that creep Cell flash in front of my eyes as if to mock me. Pushing those inconvenient pictures to the back of my mind's eye, I step in closer to my son.

"When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it within a millimeter of perfection. You are a powerful Prince, not some sissy human. So start acting like one instead of an emotional baboon."

Gesturing towards the scorched yard, I growl out at him, even more disgusted by the fact that instead of taking my lecture stoically, he's back to whimpering and crying. I can feel my eyebrow beginning to twitch and I know that I'm at the end of my rope, by patience and temper only being able to take so much.

"Look at this brat, and look at it good. Yes, you are strong, but by allowing your enemy to tap into your anger without having the upper hand of it, you have wasted an immense amount of energy. Not only that, but you could have destroyed your allies as well. Had I not been watching your progress, you could have trashed the house, not to mention any weak humans inside the building. So what do you have to say for yourself?"

Sniveling and wiping away some of the tears that are splattering down his cheeks, Trunks mumbles something out that sounds suspiciously like an apology. The only problem is, I'm not looking for an apology. I want to see him take responsibility for his inattention and his lack of concentration, resulting in the disaster I had to thwart. Although he is only four years old, I have many expectations riding on his shoulders. No matter that I haven't been a sterling example of a role model, he is only proving to me how stupid I was to lower myself into mating with a human. And to top everything off, I have another brat on the way. Letting out a growl of pent up frustration, I stalk forward towards my son, intent on thrashing some sense into him.

In a split second, Trunks is face to face with me. Holding him up by the front of his oversized T-shirt, I look straight into his terrified eyes, feeling revulsion that he looks at me in such a way. I feel conflicted. I want him to act like a Saiya-jin and respect me, but at the same time, I don't want him to fear me. Dropping him back down to the ground as suddenly as I picked him up, I turn my back on him, clenching my jaw as I try to sort out my messed up mind. Letting out a sigh tinged with frustration, hopelessness and guilt, I make my way towards the house, careful to avoid stepping on the scorched lawn.

Calling over my shoulder, I let my son know how disappointed I am with his performance and his attitude.

"As I thought, you're just a baby. Well, I don't train with babies still attached to their mothers. Until you can prove to me that you're capable of taking what I dish out, then you can forget training with me."

Ignoring Trunks' renewed sobbing; I make my way inside the place where I live. Stopping inside the kitchen, I walk over to the sink and look out the window that shows a full view of the front lawn. Watching Trunks as he sits in a curled up ball, I grip the counter tightly. This planet is turning me into something…something different and I don't care for changes that are occurring within me. Closing my eyes tightly, I try to will away the feeling of somehow failing him, for treating him as though he is nothing more then something I can trample over. It's like a vicious circle. I deal with him in a manner similar to how I was treated as a child, no matter that I hated being viewed as an object to be used and not as an individual. I don't want Trunks to end up that way, but I don't know how to change what I have become. Although I already know that there are cracks in my armor, which are slowly and irrefutably changing what I once was into something different, I can't seem to circumvent the process. It's like a sick, twisted joke being played at my expense, and I'm beginning to hate my existence with great vigor.

Pushing myself away from the counter, I turn around and find myself face to face with the woman who has become part of my confusion. Stepping to the side, I ignore her as I move quickly towards the refrigerator to grab a snack before I make my way upstairs to change into something that doesn't smell like smoke and sweat. However, as usual, the woman is not someone to be ignored easily and she knows me better then even I do. Before I have a chance to pull open the door, she's bodily standing in front of it making sure that I can't avoid her no matter how much I might wish to.

"Not so fast Vegeta. Where's Trunks? I thought you were training with him this morning."

Letting out a huff of irritation, I motion my head towards the window where I had just been staring.

"He's outside. If you're that worried, by all means, check up on him. Now, move out of the way or I'll move you myself."

Not shifting an inch, Bulma stares at me, biting her lower lip as she tries to figure out what to say to me.

"I take it training didn't go well again? Look, I know it's none of my business how you train him, but maybe if you tried to treat him like his age and maturity level, things would start improving between the two of you. I mean, you've been going at it with him for a month and all you two have seemed to accomplish is making each other upset."

"Look Woman, I don't need a lecture from you about my training methods. He is a Saiya-jin and he should be able to do what I ask him with little to no difficulty. Instead, he balks, cries, and acts like…like a weakling! Well, I don't have patience to deal with his attitude so until he learns to control his emotional states, we will no longer be having any training sessions together except to spar."

With that said, I pick Bulma up carefully and push her out of the way, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a liter of milk and a stack of sandwiches that Bulma's mother made the day before. Closing the door with my foot, I start walking towards the exit when I feel something warm snag around one of my biceps, effectively stopping my movement.

"Stop right there Vegeta. Avoidance isn't going to get you anywhere. You of all people should know that. So keeping Trunks at bay because you don't understand how to, I don't know, show him that he means something to you isn't going to work. I mean, he's four for God's sake. All he wants is approval, which means more then just spending a day where you don't insult him. Anyway, he doesn't understand half the things you tell him except that for some reason, you don't like him. And that's a big deal to a kid his age."

Turning around, I carefully lay my food down on the table behind us so I won't be encumbered while we argue over the thing that seems to divide us the most: our son.

"Since when did liking someone have to do with anything? I've spent the great majority of my life being hated _and_ despised and feeling sorry for myself over my lack of companionship never got me anywhere. If I could make it into adulthood without being _liked_ by anyone, surely my son can survive feeling disliked by his own father."

With that comment thrown out into the open, I can tell Bulma is starting to become riled up, which concerns me slightly. She's been sick from the brat she's carrying inside her and arguing seems to sap her of what little strength she has. But it can't be avoided when it comes to dealing with Trunks. Ever since I started showing some interest in my offspring, we've quarreled about him. In more ways then one, I wish things were the way they were before he was born, when it was just Bulma, me and our wits. Had I known what a pain in the ass having a child would be, I never would have…Well, I would have done a better job of using protection. And now, the whole process is about to happen again. I watch as Bulma steps forward, pushing her finger into my sternum, her body inches from my own.

"God Vegeta, sometimes I wonder if half of the shit that comes out of your mouth is true or not. I can't believe that not being liked didn't affect you at all. If that were the case, you wouldn't avoid people like the plague in order to keep from allowing others into your life through friendship. Besides, being approved by your father, no matter how disinterested they are, is a completely different ball of wax then being liked by the general population. There's a lot more meaning to a father's love then what other people think."

"Well Woman, that's one thing where I would beg to differ from. My father was a bastard. I never cared one whit whether he liked me or not. That's what made me strong."

Moving away from her because her accusations ring true in my ears and I just don't feel up to screaming at her for the moment, I turn back to my sandwiches and milk and make a grab for them. Sometimes, even though I don't like to do it, retreating from a battle is the wisest option for both parties involved. I don't feel like spilling out half-truths to my mate and I can clearly see that she looks unwell. But she isn't the type to give up on a verbal spar unless she's clearly losing or she's forcefully asked to shut her mouth. Trying to evade her, I make a dash for the door, feeling foolish for fleeing a situation that isn't even remotely dangerous. What a damn fucking pussy I've become to run away from my own mate. I make it to the door when her voice chimes in.

"If being neglected and treated like garbage made you strong, why are you running away from me? If you're going to spout a lie, at least _try_ to make it convincing."

Closing my eyes, I stiffen my back, making sure not to turn around and face her.

"You don't understand a damn thing Woman. Now fuck off."

With that said, I leave the room at war with myself for being such a bastard to her. I know that she's only trying to make me see things in a different light and in her own way, she's still trying to help me recover from the horror that was my past. She's trying to help me become the opposite of what I once was. And I suppose I want her help, or else I wouldn't have bothered sticking around with her in the first place. I can at least admit this fact to myself, even though it's taken me the better part of four years to realize it. Still, it's one thing to admit one's own feelings about something, and clearly another thing to go from admission to a complete change.

Swallowing down my frustration and shame, I hurriedly mount the stairs to the upper level of the home I share with my mate and her family. Making a beeline for our room and praying that Bulma isn't going to follow me up here, I close the door behind me and lock it. I'm just not in the mood to continue arguing with her, mostly because I'm afraid that my anger is going to end up exploding and the last thing I want to do is harm her or the unborn brat in a fit of anger without realizing what I'm doing.

Placing the sandwiches and milk down on the table next to the bed we share, I sit down and run my fingers through my hair and then grasp my knees with my hands. Taking a few deep breaths, I feel like screaming or lashing out. For the millionth time, I ask myself why I'm back to being in such a…such depressed state, for lack of a better description. I know that I probably have suffered from this mood disorder, as stupid humans would call it, for the better part of my life. However, in the past, I had other needs to focus on that were much more important then my emotional well being. There was survival for one thing, and then later, an insatiable thirst to best that moron Kakarrot and prove once and for all that I was the strongest this universe has ever known.

Now, however, it's a completely different story. I have security I suppose, and if you don't count the fact that Kakarrot's brat bested my strength, I'm the strongest besides him. Bah, I must have way too much time on my hands and I think that, coupled with the fact that things are not really very good between Bulma and myself (not that they ever were and I shouldn't even care anyway), is what has started my second slump. What I really need is a purpose, but I'm too tired to try and think of a good one besides training my brat and protecting my family.

Thinking of Trunks, I realize that he's probably still sitting on the front lawn griping. Standing up slowly, I make my way to the balcony door and walk outside. Looking down on the burnt grass, I see that Kakarrot's progeny have arrived and both boys are trying to make my son happy. Realizing that I'm off the hook for the moment, I slip back inside and close the door. Stretching out my arms over my head, I catch a whiff of my odor and I wrinkle my nose at how filthy I reek. Forgetting about my snack for the moment, I enter the bathroom, intent on wiping away the filth on my body and perhaps emptying my mind of some of the filth that has invaded it of late as well.

Bulma

"Goten, try to keep the food on your plate from feeding the floor. Believe me kid, it's not interested in what you're tossing down to it."

Leaning back in chair, I watch as the little boy nods his head slightly, as if in understanding, and then proceeds to stuff three rice balls into his mouth simultaneously. And, as I would have expected from such piggish eating habits, rice grains spew out of his mouth and end up on the small pile of wasted food that's become a semi-permanent addition around the chair he's sitting on. Shaking my head slightly, I notice that Gohan is blushing slightly and that my son is trying not to giggle at the sight of his best friend, who looks like a chipmunk with his cheeks stuffed full of rice.

"Oh Bulma, honey! Give the boy a break, sweetie. He's only three. Besides, I like to see people enjoying the food that I cook."

With that said, I watch as my mom leans over and ruffles Goten's hair before she gets up and clears both her place and my father's.

Honestly, I don't really care that Goten is such a sloppy eater, since I don't have to clean up the mess. I'm just trying to be a good, motherly role model, even though he does have Chi-Chi. But I have a hunch that she's sort of slacked off on her strictness with Goten because he reminds her in many ways of the husband that she lost. I mean, he's a carbon copy of Goku, except for the tail. Besides, I don't want Trunks thinking that eating in such a manner is an acceptable practice. Not that that would ever happen. When Vegeta's present for a meal, any unsightly habits are dealt with quickly and brutally. He's an extremely anal retentive person and poor habits are not acceptable in his book. I just wish he'd realize that children are children and that you can't expect them to be perfect. It would certainly help his relationship with our son and Goku's boys if that were the case.

"Whatever Mom." I mumble towards her. Standing up slowly, I ignore a sharp pain that shoots through my abdomen. Swallowing to hide the pain I'm in from the boys and my ever-perceptive mother, I start clearing away the dishes that are empty of food.

Walking over towards my mom, I throw the dishes in the sink and then lean against the counter, taking in a deep breath and trying to relax my muscles at the same time. I feel like I have a bad case of cramps from my period and all I want to do is lie down. Straightening up slightly, I realize that both Gohan and my mom haven't missed a beat and they're staring at me with a look of concern. Smiling brightly, even though I don't feel like it, I move away from the counter and then back towards the table.

"What?" I ask when the two of them continue to look at me. Busying myself with putting the leftover food in a few containers for Vegeta to eat when he comes back from wherever it is that he went, I try to act like nothing is wrong. I don't want anything to be wrong, so I figure if I keep pretending that things are fine with me, everything will work out in the end. Funny how denial can do strange things to a person's reasoning abilities.

"Mama, you look funny."

Glancing up sharply at Trunks, who is holding onto his fork tightly in his chubby fist, I try to give him a reassuring glance.

"Honey, Mommy's okay. Finish eating your supper and then you and Goten can play until Gohan wants to leave."

My answer seems to reassure him so he starts eating as fast as he can, the idea of playing with his best friend temporarily helping him to forget why he thought something was wrong with me in the first place.

Finishing collecting the leftovers for my absent husband, I stack the containers into a pile and am about to turn around and put them in the fridge when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Turning around, I come face to face with my mother, who grabs the food from me before I have a chance to react.

"Here, I've got them. Why don't you go upstairs and take a rest, okay baby? You look like you need one. I'll make sure that Trunks and Goten leave you alone."

"Mom, I'm fine. It's just a little stomachache. Nothing that I can't handle. Besides, I want to wait for Vegeta to get back from wherever it is that he took off to. He's got a lot of explaining to do."

He failed to tell me that Trunks almost leveled the house because of his unorthodox training methods. He also left our son outside by himself. I shudder to think what could have happened had not Goten and Gohan arrived shortly after Vegeta came inside fit to be tied. Besides that, I'm still angry that he told me off and ran away to sulk like a three year old. I'm so frustrated with him. If I thought things would get simpler between the two of us the longer we've been together, I must have been high at the time. The unfortunate thing is that I can't see myself with anyone but him. So I guess I'll just have to keep trying to help him realize what it means to have a family, to be part of something greater than just himself. To finally become comfortable with who he is, that he's a complex individual beyond the tough, emotionless façade he tries to pull over everyone's eyes.

Pursing my lips in frustration over Vegeta and my thoughts, I try to focus on something else, walking over to where Goten is still eating sloppily. Picking up the dishrag my mom left on the table, I lean over and try to clean him up before I help him off the chair and shoo him towards where Trunks is waiting for him. Letting out a sigh of relief when the two of them scamper off to pester Gohan, I finish wiping off the table and then sit back down in relief.

Trying to forget about the pains in my gut, I glance over to where my mom is standing. She doesn't like my behavior and she's letting me know with the look plastered across her face. Most of the time, she's an airhead, but when it comes to me, she doesn't take no for an answer, especially when she thinks it's something I need to do.

"Bulma, this is ridiculous. You know what your doctor told you last week. You have to take it easy and if your body's telling you to go lie down, then you should do it. You're four months pregnant. You should be looking out for the baby."

"Well, that's just it Mom. All I do is lie around. I hate it. It was bad enough being pregnant with Trunks, but at least I didn't feel like shit all the time. I'm not going to let a little stomachache hold me back. I mean, Vegeta wouldn't let something like his stomach hurting keep him from training."

"Well, you aren't Vegeta, are you? And who ever said the stress he puts on his body is healthy? Be reasonable Bulma! Besides, I think you're feeling more then just a little stomachache. You look awful."

Well, she's right. I am feeling more then just a little stomachache. In fact, I woke up with dull stomach pains this morning and they've only gotten worse as the day has progressed. But I'm still in denial. The likelihood that something could be seriously wrong with me has crossed my mind, but I don't want to be a burden to my family and I don't want to think of the possibilities of what this could mean to me and my baby. I want this child, more than anything else at the moment, no matter that it was an accident. So for the time being, ignoring what's wrong is better then facing up to ugliness of the possible situation at hand.

"Mom, just trust me on this, okay? I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle, and I don't feel like lounging upstairs by myself for the rest of the evening. If it gets to be too much to handle, then I'll go upstairs."

With that said, I stand up and make my way into the family room, where my dad and Gohan are watching the news and Trunks and Goten are playing with a Fisher Price farm animal set that he got for Christmas last year. Grabbing my laptop from the desk in the corner, I settle myself into the recliner that Vegeta usually claims for himself when he actually decides to hang out with my family. Most of the time, it sits empty and collects dust, but it also happens to be the most comfortable thing to relax in and my body appreciates the support it gets from the soft and supple cushions. Pulling up the footrest, I lean back into it and turn on my laptop.

"Hey Bulma, I think Goten and I are going to be leaving pretty soon. It's starting to get dark and my Mom will get worried if we're gone too long."

Glancing out the French doors that lead to the outside patio, I notice that the sun is starting to sink beneath the horizon, reminding me that summer is finally over with and the days are becoming shorter. It also makes me worry about Vegeta slightly. I know he's a big boy and more then capable of taking care of himself, but ever since Goku's death, he's usually always back from his solitary jaunts before dark. And if he's going to be late, he lets me know, albeit in the nastiest way possible. God forbid that he would ever try to be nice about something.

Nodding absently at Gohan to let him know that I heard him, I push the footrest back into the recliner and put my laptop on top of the end table next to my chair. Standing up slowly, I grunt in irritation that Gohan had to make his announcement as soon as I made myself comfortable, even though I know it's not his fault.

"Okay boys. I'll walk you out to the front door. Come on Trunks, Goten and Gohan are leaving."

With that, the four of us troop to the door, followed by my parents. Stepping outside into the dwindling sunlight, I look on as Gohan calls Kinto'un. In seconds, the fluffy, yellow cloud appears and comes to a sudden stop in front of both the Son boys. Hopping on to it, Gohan leans down and picks Goten up, holding him securely in his lap.

Walking over to the two boys, I give them each a hug and then a kiss on the forehead.

"Sorry you had to deal with the mess Vegeta left when you got here. And sorry that he wasn't around again. Just come on over whenever you like. You know you're always welcome here."

With that said, I let my parents and Trunks make their good-byes, backing up a bit to give them space. When everybody is done wishing the boys a goodnight, Gohan tells the little yellow cloud to take him home, and they shoot off into the darkening sky.

"Mama, why can't I have a cloud like Goten?"

Looking down at my son, I smile slightly and smooth his silky hair away from his face.

"Well, Kinto'un was given to Gohan's father when he was a boy by on old man. See, Gohan's dad found a lost turtle and brought it back to the old man. Because of his help, the old man gave him the cloud because he couldn't use it anymore. It belongs to Gohan's family and I don't think there are any other clouds like it. Anyway, you won't need a cloud like that to get around with once you're older. You'll just be able to fly on your own, like your dad."

"Oh."

In an instant, he pulls away from me and runs into the house. I can tell that he's still upset and confused about today and bringing Vegeta up probably wasn't the smartest decision on my part.

Rubbing my hands together in frustration, I try to think up a way to stop this ever widening gap that seems to be growing between Vegeta and our son. And as usual, my brain pulls up a blank. I just don't know what to do, short of shackling the two of them together and making them spend some father/son bonding time that doesn't involve training. I know that idea would be a disaster waiting to happen.

The only way things are ever going to improve is if Vegeta gets over his fear of showing his feelings and tries harder to accept Trunks for who he is. And no matter how much I might wish it, there isn't anything I can do that will make him come around. I've done all that I can do. Besides, our relationship isn't the greatest either.

Rolling my eyes and crossing one of my arms over my expanding middle, I pull the door open and walk into the house. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, I try to make my way back to the family room where I can hear the television going, but another sharp cramp stops me in my tracks. This one is the worst so far, making me want to gag and vomit from the pain. Licking my dry lips, I decide that perhaps it would be a smart move on my part to lie down.

Not bothering to tell my mom or dad, I slowly creep up the stairs, thankful that the bedroom I share with Vegeta is the first door on the right at the top of the landing. Opening the door, I lie down and let out sigh of relief. Gathering my thoughts, I role over onto my stomach and hope that it's something as insignificant as gas, even though that idea is slightly disgusting.

The truth is, I am worried. This pregnancy has been difficult and I've already been ordered by my doctor to take things easy. With Trunks, I was sick for most of the first trimester, but not like this. I'm completely miserable. I had hoped that after the first three months, things would go back to normal, but if anything, they're just getting worse. And I have a deep fear that something is either seriously wrong with me or the baby. I've never felt pains like this before, but again, I'm too afraid to deal with it at the moment, especially since Vegeta isn't here. I want him next to me, comforting me and holding on to me, the opposite of how he was when I was pregnant the first time. But again, not surprisingly, he's made himself scarce. I know it's due to Trunks but I also know that he's still angry with me for trying to keep this pregnancy a secret, even after he had figured out the truth. He doesn't trust me for the moment, and the people Vegeta doesn't trust don't get the time of day from him. What a mess I have made for myself.

Lying with my cheek against the pillow, I let out a sob of misery, both from the way my belly feels and the fact that instead of making things better between Vegeta and myself, I've just managed to put a wedge between us as well. Closing my eyes, I weep in the dimness of my room before sleep finally claims me.

Vegeta

Slipping into the silent house through the patio doors, I make my way inside thanking the Gods that everyone seems to be sleeping. Taking off my boots, I throw them into the corner behind the sofa, not caring that I'm putting them where they don't belong for once. Padding across the carpeting, I slip down the hallway and enter the kitchen, intent on finding myself something to eat before I head upstairs to the bed and the woman who are waiting for me.

Not bothering to turn on the light, I pull open the refrigerator and find a stack of leftovers with a note taped onto the top container. It tells me that the food is for me, that both my mate and my son missed me at suppertime as well as Kakarrot's brats. Snorting in disgust, I rip the note off the container and crumple it into a ball, tossing it into the trash can before throwing the containers onto the table. I'm still angry about earlier in the day, and leaving me a note as a way to placate me only agitates me further. I shouldn't give a damn that I left everyone hanging because I failed to show up at some pre-set time for supper. But I do feel guilty because deep down inside, the only reason I didn't come home until now was because I was avoiding everyone, especially Bulma and my son.

Growling under my breath, I walk over to the kitchen island and pull open a drawer. Fishing around for a few seconds, my hand closes around the object I'm looking for. Extracting a fork, I slip back over to the table and settle myself in. Pulling open the containers, I eat the food quickly and mechanically, not bothering to dissect the different flavors that are coming to life on my tongue. In a few minutes, all that is left are the empty containers and a few streaks of sauce plus a few flecks of rice. Standing back up, I pick up my mess and dump it into the sink. Turning on the tap, I stick my head underneath the running water and drink a few gulps to help wash everything down. Pulling away from the tap once I'm finished, I wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve and then turn the water back off, making my way out of the dark kitchen and into the equally dark hallway.

It's much later then when I normally return from an excursion, so I'm not surprised to find that Bulma isn't in bed. Smirking slightly as I close the bedroom door behind me, I figure that she's probably working on one of her stupid projects, worrying herself over me. The bed's rumpled and the covers are messed up, which indicates that she's been up here. I'm about to lean over to turn on the nightstand light when I hear something muffled coming from the bathroom. Stilling my movements, I listen carefully before I decide that my mind is playing tricks on me. Turning on the light, I make my way over to the closet, yanking off my clothes and pushing them into the hamper. Leaning over to pull out a pair of fresh bottoms, I grunt in disgust when I have to pick up Bulma's dirty underwear and clothing. She has gotten better at being neat since we became lovers, especially after I moved into her bedroom, but she still hasn't figured out how to put things in their proper place. At least it isn't strewn across the floor of the room mixed in with garbage and filth like it was when I first moved into Capsule Corporation.

Shaking my head at her sloppiness and the fact that I'm picking up after her instead of hauling her ass out of the basement and making her do it, I stumble over to the bed. It's at that exact moment that my nose picks up something that doesn't smell right. Saiya-jins have a much more advanced olfactory system the humans do, so I have the advantage of being able to pick up scents that most humans would miss. Sniffing the air curiously, it takes a few moments for my brain to process the information. Blood.

Stepping away from the bed, I sniff again. The smell isn't over powering, which means there isn't a great deal of blood in my room, but it is there and that disturbs me. Looking over at the crumpled sheets, I finally find the evidence that my nose has been pointing towards. Leaning over to inspect my discovery, there is a small patch of semi-dried blood near the center of the sheets where Bulma had been lying down. Swallowing nervously, I try to ease my mind from the countless possibilities that somehow wind up in the forefront of my thoughts. Bulma being attacked. Bulma hurting herself. Bulma…

Shaking my head, I try to calm down, telling myself that all those scenarios are far fetched for the miniscule amount of blood that's on the sheets of our bed. Stepping back again, I cross my arms and close my eyes. She probably just had a bloody nose or something stupid like that. Still, I'm worried about her. Letting out a deep breath, I look towards the bathroom again. That's when everything clicks into my head.

She's in the bathroom. Slowly walking towards the closed door, I notice a few more drops of blood that lead like tell tale arrows to my destination. How I could have missed them…I shake my head. Coming to a stop, I rest my ear against the door and listen for any sign that she's in there and that everything is under control. But everything is not fine apparently, especially when I hear a muffled moan and then a quiet sob.

It's unnerving listening to her. It's like she's trying to hide herself from me. At that moment, I know something is definitely wrong. It's the feeling you get when someone has stepped across your grave. Goose pimply and creepy. I feel panicked at the thought of what's lurking behind the doorway, what horror that I'm going to have to face. All of this only drives me to anger over my cowardice. How could I allow myself to be so weak? Why was I so afraid of what I might find? Stiffening my arms and my resolve, putting on my mask of indifference, I knock slightly and then push the door open. I open to find what would become my worst nightmare, even worse then the ones inflicted upon me during my time under Freeza. My mate, sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, sobbing as she tries to staunch the flow coming from between her legs.

What the hell did I do to have to watch something like this? That's all I think before my mind becomes numb to the scene at hand and my instincts take control.

_What's Vegeta going to do and what's happening to Bulma? I'm sure you've already guessed it and the next chapter will move in towards the meat of the story (I hope). Please read and review and tell me what you think!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Well, here is chapter four. Sorry for the long delay. But I can finally say…I'm done with school for the year! At least until next August. So hopefully, updates will be coming more frequently for those of you interested in reading my stories. Unless I end up working sixty hours a week because of a lack of funds. That'll be overkill!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of it's characters. That privilege belongs to Toriyama Akira._

_Chapter 4_

Vegeta

I open the door to find what would become my worst nightmare, even worse then the ones inflicted upon me during my time under Freeza. My mate sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, sobbing as she tries to staunch the flow coming from between her legs.

What the hell did I do to have to watch something like this? That's all I think before my mind becomes numb to the scene at hand and my instincts take control.

In an instant, I'm upon her, not even realizing the fact that in all actuality, I'm most likely only making the situation worse for her. All I can think in my hazy mind is that my mate, my…anchor, is bleeding to death in front of my eyes. I've witnessed blood, gore and horrific death scenes more times then even I can count, yet none of them have ever made me feel like my insides are being ripped apart.

Not thinking, I swoop down and grab one of her wrists, trying to pull her upright and away from the scene at hand. All that is going through my instinct driven body is the need to take her someplace safe, someplace where she can get help. And quickly. My brain and my instincts to protect her are not in synch with one another. Fortunately, Bulma seems to be grasping the situation better than I am, and in a moment of clarity, she brings me back to reality.

Swinging her free wrist around, she somehow manages to land a well-aimed punch to my mid-section. I certainly am not expecting that kind of reaction. In fact, my panic stricken body is only looking for one thing: escape from the horror that has become our bathroom. Never have I reacted to a situation so poorly in my entire adult life. I, the epitome of outward control, have seemly lost it in front of the person who knows me best. And at the current moment, she is the one who seemingly has to talk sense to me, the one who should be in control of the situation.

Releasing her wrist, I back away from her. Not for the first time in my life do I find myself feeling completely inadequate and nervous, for lack of a better description. Stepping to the side, I watch as she slumps down on the floor and then doubles over in agony. Shifting away from her uneasily, I find myself backed up against the open door frame, making it look as though I'm thinking of running at any minute. I don't know what to do or even what this means, and that's what terrifies me the most besides the fact that Bulma could very well be at death's door for all that I know. And for some exceedingly uncomfortable reason, that is something I do not want to have happen. Shoving those thoughts away for later dissection, I slowly cross my arms and …Shit, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do in this situation.

Clearing my throat slightly, I chew the side of my mouth as I try to think of some way to…to address the situation? Hell, I have no clue and the sad this is, I should. I'm a seasoned warrior and seeing people in this sort of state isn't something I should be panicking about. However, the fact that Bulma is not a warrior and should never be in a state like this to begin with is what brings alarm gongs ringing in my head. That is the reason this situation is so wrong.

Snapping out of my confused reverie, I stare as she pushes herself upright and then leans up against our toilet, panting and sweating in obvious pain and discomfort. Watching her nervously, there is something besides the fact that she's bleeding all over that bothers me about her predicament, yet I can't seem to put my finger on it. Yet another facet of this complex scenario to file away in the recesses of my mind for further scrutiny.

"Vegeta?"

I grunt as a form of reply, afraid of what will come out of mouth if I try and utter words to her. She struggles in sitting herself up straighter and then lets out a loud groan of pain as I watch her abdominal muscles contract in fascinated aversion.

She straightens out slightly and then swallows, the sound of her parched throat breaking my concentration from observing her safely from the confines of the door.

"Vegeta, I'm…I need to go to the hospital. Could you please get my mother?"

She seems so composed but underneath her apparent ease of the situation, I can read her fear, uncertainty and disappointment. Taking her command literally, I leave her alone in the bathroom and quickly make my way to the other end of the compound where the old couple has their apartments. Partially, I'm relieved to have a task that I can accomplish, but on the other hand, I don't like the fact that she seems to have more faith in her mother than she does in me. What does she really want from me? Shaking my head in frustration, I stop in front of their bedroom door and bang loudly on it, not caring that I'm most likely waking them up from a restful slumber.

In less then a minute, the freak I have for a mother in-law opens the door a crack. Thankfully she's wearing something tasteful because if she weren't, in my current state of mind, I would have blasted her for her lewdness. Seeing me standing at her doorway must have alerted her to the serious of the situation because instead of saying something utterly ridiculous, she asks me what is wrong. Looking at her, I tell her as much as I know.

"The Wom…I mean Bulma is bleeding in the bathroom. She wants _you_ . Follow me."

With that said, I curtly turn on my heel and stride back in the direction that I came from. I don't even bother to turn around and make sure that she's following me, my desire to get back to Bulma fueling my haste.

In what seems like nanoseconds, I'm back to the room I share with Bulma. Opening the door, I step inside and hurry over to where I left the bathroom door ajar. Cocking my head slightly, I watch as Bulma's mother nimbly walks past me and enters the scene of horror that I somehow unwittingly fell into. Seeing her daughter is such a horrible circumstance seems to spur something in the dingbat that I've never seen before: control and efficiency. Before she even walks across the threshold, she seems to have an understanding of what is going on better then I do. Stepping up to her weeping daughter, I watch as she kneels down next to her and asks her a few questions. Glancing uneasily at Bulma, I notice as she whispers something to her mother and then nervously peers over to where I'm standing. Her mother seems to be able to read Bulma's expressions in ways I've either never wanted to or ever been able to do. In a flash, she's back at the bathroom doorway, looking at me nervously.

"Vegeta. Bulma…It would be easier for Bulma if you could leave. Please."

Growling at her, I feel as though my worthless life is coming full circle. This rotten relationship with my mate is the final straw in the pile of filth that's been infecting my rotten mind ever since I was a small boy forced to pay tribute to the biggest brute the universe has ever seen. It's the worst sort of betrayal, to be asked to leave the one person I'm supposed to protect, the one purpose my life has had ever since Kakarot killed himself.

In a moment of weakness and confused anger, I almost give into the temptation of blasting the woman who is acting like a shield for Bulma. Realizing how fruitless and meaningless such violent intentions are, I cross my arms in anger and step back. However, I'm not ready to back away from this horrible situation without at least venting some of the simmering frustration that seems about to boil over. Glaring at her imperiously, I finally find my voice.

"Fine. I'll leave, if that's what you want."

Realizing that my tongue is not going to cooperate with me, I do the only thing left for to me to do. I walk over to the balcony, open the doors and blast back out into the night, leaving in anger and frustration for the second time today. Perhaps what I'm doing isn't what is expected of me, but if she wants me to leave, so be it. I have enough sense in my head to know when I'm not wanted. Yet deep down inside, I can't help but feel a sort of lingering hurt over the fact that she doesn't trust me enough to tell me what is wrong. But then again, whom am I kidding? I've heard the old adage that you have to show trust in others before they can trust you back, and in that regard, I've never placed my faith in Bulma because I've never had the chance to. Besides, trusting others is not something I'm good at. Until I met Bulma, I'd always lived my life alone, learning the hard way at a young age that putting trust in others is a dangerous and stupid thing to do. So when was it that I actually _desired _another person to feel that way about me? Flying into the wilderness, these fruitless and confusing thoughts occupy my mind, along with a worry and concern for my mate that feels as though it's eating away at my control to stay the hell away from her.

'Vegeta, you are one fucked up individual, ' I think to myself as fly aimlessly away from the place where I live.

Bulma

I swallow down a sob as I watch Vegeta shout at my mother and then blast off through the balcony doors into the night. Even though I had my mom ask him to leave, I didn't mean for him to leave like that. I…I need him yet I'm humiliated and ashamed of this situation and I'm afraid of how he's going to react…when he finds out how weak I am for wanting him to be there for me. To act in a capacity which would be completely foreign and alien to him. To act out of compassion and maybe even love.

I don't have time to wallow on these miserable thoughts before another sharp pain lances through my middles like a knife sliding through my flesh. Biting back a scream, I let out a keening moan, not wanting to appear pathetic in front of my mother. It hurts so much, almost worse then when I went into labor with Trunks. Perhaps the pain I'm feeling is because I know the awful truth, yet still I don't want to own up to it. This can't be happening to me. That's all I can think as the pain recedes and a fresh smear of blood appears between my legs.

Breathing in heavily through my nose, I feel like I'm dying. My eyes are closed and I just want the pain to end. When a cold wet sensation suddenly makes itself known on my brow, I snap back to reality as soon as my eyes open involuntarily. My mother is wiping away the sweat that has accumulated on my forehead and she's peering at me with a very worried expression on her face.

"Bulma, I called the ambulance. They should be here any second."

"God Mom. Why did you do that? I'm going to be…"

Before I can even finish my sentence, another horrible, ripping pain tears itself through my body. This time, I don't contain my scream. I have to be dying to feel this much pain. In seconds, it's over with, but the after effects are still reverberating through my system. Feeling stressed, abandoned (although I know it's my fault), and in severe pain, I lean on my mother and sob and sob and sob.

'Why? Why is this happening to me?' I think to myself as I lay in my mother's warm and comforting arms. Was it because I avoided telling Vegeta the truth? Was it because he didn't want this baby? Was it because…? Another gripping pain passes through my body, pulling me away from my thinking and back into the ugly reality of what is happening to my body.

"Bulma, hang on there. It's going to be okay honey. My baby, my poor baby."

I half hear my mother mumbling to me as she rocks my body, the two of us sitting on the bloody, cold bathroom floor. I can hear her telling me that everything is going to be fine, but I know the truth. Everything is not going to be fine. I'm not going to wake up from this, feeling relieved to know that it is nothing more than a horrible nightmare. It is a nightmare that has come to life, and there is nothing that I can do to push the demons away from my body. They've lodged themselves deep within me and they are tearing me apart and… I stop myself before I can go farther. I don't…I don't want to think about it. I _won't_ think about it.

I don't know how long we sit there together, pain after pain dulling my senses to anything but just surviving past them. It could have been for hours or only a few minutes, but finally, the ambulance that my mother called shows up. They are coldly efficient and before I know it, I'm being lifted onto a gurney, given some sort of sedative, loaded up into the back of the vehicle and whisked off to West City Memorial Hospital.

My body is still in agony, but whatever they gave me starts to work it's magic immediately. A sort of numbness sweeps through my body and within minutes, I start to feel myself slipping away from consciousness. My eyelids feel as though they are being weighted down with bricks. Unable to fight the onslaught of tiredness that washes through my frame, I give in and drift off into oblivion.

& & &

I can feel my body starting to wake up, but I don't want to. You know that feeling you have when you first wake up in the morning? The feeling that tells you to just stay wrapped up in your warm blankets and keep right on snoozing through the rest of the day? That's how I'm feeling at the moment, yet something…or someone obviously has a different opinion on the matter. Feeling someone poke me in the shoulder for the third time, I irritably brush the offending hand away. Still, my apparent irritation at being rudely awakened from my nap doesn't seem to deter the person poking me in the least. This time, instead of poke, I feel my body shift sideways as a well placed shove is applied to my shoulders. Deciding to change tactics, I move away slightly and mumble out a warning.

"Go away."

"No."

Finally opening my eyes, I blink them shut as sunlight filters down through the foliage of the tree I'm laying under and my pupils shrink to accommodate the light entering inside.

Turning my head to the side, I find myself staring at two muscular thighs clad in a pair of tight blue jeans. Gazing upwards past a T-shirt enclosed torso, I look into Vegeta's smirking face.

"You're an ass."

"Hnnn, whatever Woman."

Watching as he settles down next to me, I'm slightly surprised when he proffers his hand towards me. Confused, I wonder why he's volunteering his help and why he's being so uncharacteristically…nice? Yeah, nice. Still, a helping hand is a helping hand, and I'm not stupid enough to piss him off by ignoring his offer. Grabbing hold of it, he pulls me upright and I find myself leaning in towards him, using his body as a support. I don't know why, but I have this sudden urge to kiss him. I'm about to plant my lips on his when he leans away from me and crosses his arms, a twinkle of mischief floating in the depths of his dark brown eyes.

"Now that you're finally awake, maybe you can start making those sandwiches. I'm hungry."

Leave it to Vegeta to turn a semi-romantic event into something centered around food, or more specifically, his enormous stomach. Sometimes I have a feeling that he's more like Goku then he'd ever admit to. Slapping him in the arm, I stand up, but not quick enough because before I even take a step, he's behind me with his arms wrapped around my middle.

I stiffen slightly when his breath tickles across my ear, hearing a very distinct purr coming from between his lips. Licking my own set of lips, I let out a gasp when I feel him kiss my throat, and suddenly, I'm not really sure if he's hungry for sandwiches or hungry for…for something else.

"Vegeta, let go. We're out in a public park for God's sake. Somebody could see us." I whisper frantically, although I'm not really sure if I want him to let go. He feels nice and for once, I like the way he's treating me.

"Stop being so coy Bulma. You know that it only has the opposite effect on me anyway."

Well, that much is true. Still, even though the offer in the air does seem tempting, I'm not fool enough to try and tempt fate. With my abysmal bad luck, we'd end up being caught by the city police or have some old couple come across us and die of a heart attack from the shock. Besides, there is always the possibility that it would be our son who finds us and that is more then enough reason to stop the madness that Vegeta wants to pursue.

Pulling away from him firmly, I turn around and give him a smile.

"It can wait, can't it? You know Vegeta, good things happen to those who wait."

I can tell he's disappointed, but instead of trying to badger me into giving in like he would normally do, he just shrugs his shoulders and backs up a few inches. Intrigued once again by his attitude, I look at him for a few seconds before he notices my pursual.

"What? Have I grown an extra head Woman? If I haven't, would you kindly explain what's so fascinating about me that you have to stare at me? I don't like people looking at me."

Rubbing my arms, I try to phrase my thoughts without saying something that will inevitably insult him. However, with Vegeta, there is always an inherent risk that you are somehow going to offend him, even if that is not your intent. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I tell him what seems so off.

"I'm just wondering if you took a happy pill today or something. You're, um…unusually helpful and _nice_ today."

And of course, just as I predicted, Vegeta looks at me in such a way the clearly conveys his displeasure with my frank evaluation.

"Huh, well, if you're going to act like there is something wrong with being nice for a change, then I'll quit. But considering that you're the one who told me it isn't healthy to be angry at everything on this dung heap, I don't understand why you think it is so strange I would find pleasure in your company. We are mates after all."

I said all that to him? For some reason, my mind seems oddly blank at ever having a conversation about something like his anger issues. In fact, the only thing I can think of was that I must have been drunk at the time. And Vegeta had to have been as well, because that's the only explanation I can come up with for him to have taken my words to heart.

Raising my eyebrows slightly, I let out a sigh and blurt out an apology. The lord knows, I certainly like this Vegeta much more then the usual cold and cranky version.

"Sorry Vegeta. I must just not be awake yet from that nice little nap."

I watch in amazement as he nods his head in acceptance. Letting the oddity of the situation slide by, I ask him another question that comes to mind.

"Where's Trunks?"

"Playing with Toma over on those stupid things you humans call a jungle gym." With that said, I watch as he jerks his head over in the direction of the play area in the park and I let out sigh of relief when I see my son's tell tale purple hair. That's when something else that Vegeta said pops into my head.

"Who's Toma?"

"Gods Bulma, did you leave your brain back at Capsule Corporation?"

Feeling uncomfortable over his reaction and the fact that he's currently looking at me like _I've_ grown two heads, I blush slightly and then try to cover my faux pas.

"Oh, sorry. I just didn't understand what you were saying Vegeta." With that, I step away from him and head over towards the picnic blanket that's set up under the same tree I was sleeping underneath. Settling down on the red and white checkered cloth, I start pulling out the bread and meat that's been placed inside it and begin the process of assembling the huge amount of food that my son and my husband are going to end up eating. Vegeta, however, is not appeased by my answer or my motions towards making him something to eat.

Feeling uneasy, I watch nervously as he settles down next to me on the blanket. Without warning, he grabs one of my hands and then stares at my face. I suddenly have a sinking sensation that he's going to try and get inside of my head, but before he does, he lets go of it and then slouches down next to me.

"I don't know why you would ask such a ridiculous question. But you seem healthy enough. Maybe you didn't hear me right…" He lets his sentence trail off as he abruptly stares into space, the wheels in his head spinning as he searches for an elusive answer.

However, soon as his solitary thought process starts, it's ended just as quickly by a loud smacking sound, as something collides with his head. Swallowing nervously, I tense up as I wait for the explosion I know is going to happen. But then something happens that really throws me for a loop.

Turning around, I see the culprit who is none other then our son, Trunks. Vegeta sees this as well and motions for him to come forward. Picking up the ball that Trunks had just thrown, Vegeta holds it in front of his face.

"You see this boy?"

I watch as Trunks nods his head nervously.

"This is what happens when something of yours strays into my territory."

With that said, I watch as Vegeta calmly uses his ki to turn the ball into a small pile of ash. Feeling badly for Trunks, I'm surprised when he just accepts Vegeta's punishment without having a fit. I'm also surprised when Vegeta wipes his hands on his pants and then turns his attention back to me. For the life of me, I can't figure out why both of them aren't at each other's throats. Vegeta because Trunks touched his body on purpose with an inanimate object, and Trunks because Vegeta just destroyed one of his toys. I'm staring at the two of them in shock when Vegeta speaks up again, addressing our son.

"You can also tell your brother to come out from where he's hiding behind that tree. Your mother is making supper and I'm sure both of you have enough sense not to piss her off."

With that said, I watch as my little boy nods his head and then scampers off in the direction of the tree that Vegeta just mentioned. Pursing my lips slightly, I get back to making the sandwiches, totally confused about a number of things. Vegeta acting nice. Vegeta not losing his temper and most of all, why Trunks seems older then four years old.

Throwing myself into the rhythm of making the sandwiches, I let my confusion linger in the back on my mind. There is definitely something off about this whole situation. It's as though time has skipped forward and for some reason, there's a huge gap in my memory. I don't get it and I suddenly feel terrified. Looking down at my working hands, I try to quell my nervousness, lest Vegeta tune into it. But it's already too late for that when I feel his warm hands grab my agitated ones.

Leaning in, he speaks softly into my ear.

"What's wrong Bulma?"

For some reason, I feel like I can trust Vegeta. Big, bad Vegeta, the one who almost destroyed our planet when he first came here and then a second time when he let his arrogance and pride take over his common sense when fighting Cell. However, he's not like that anymore, and that is becoming more apparent by the second. Swallowing, I tell him the truth.

"I feel like there is something missing in my head Vegeta. I…I can't remember ever talking to you about learning how to control your anger and the last time I remember seeing Trunks, he was a lot younger then he is now. What does that mean, Vegeta? I feel…I feel afraid."

Now he looks extremely concerned, but instead of voicing his thoughts, he rubs my back slowly as we wait for Trunks to return.

In a few minutes, our son suddenly comes bounding back into sight, trailed by a smaller boy with a shock of dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. It's uncanny how much he looks like Vegeta and that's when it dawns on me. This is Toma, our other son.

Pulling away from Vegeta, I watch as the little boy stares at me sadly and then plops down on the blanket next to his father. Trunks soon follows suit and Vegeta soundlessly starts passing out the food to his two offspring and to myself, since I feel incapable at the moment.

We eat silently, except for the two boys intermittently poking fun at each other or making faces, squishing their food between their teeth to the disgust of their sire. But all Vegeta does to correct their horrible table manners is to tell them they will never be fit to act as Saiya-jin princes, which only earns a few well placed snickers in return. However, I can't help but feel as though this whole situation is nothing more then a farce. There is something terribly wrong and I feel like I'm the only one who seems to be noticing the fact that something is amiss.

"Mommy, what's the matter?"

Brought back to reality, I find myself staring into the endless pools of azure that make up my other son's eyes. Eyes that seem to know more then a normal toddler should know. Eyes that never had the chance to really live. Eyes that…

Standing up quickly, I try to back away. Pushing the picnic basket over in my haste, I slap at Vegeta's hands as he tries to reign in my apparently psychotic behavior.

"Woman, stop it! You're hurting yourself and scaring the brats!"

I can vaguely hear him shout at me, but all I can do is look at the little boy who is sadly sitting in the middle of the mess that was our picnic. Stare in despair at the beautiful thing that could have been.

"Y…You're dead."

I watch as he slowly nods his head up and down.

"Yes Mommy. I'm dead."

& & &

I wake up shrieking, my hands clawing at my belly as my mind finally settles on the reality that I've been trying to deny.

Screaming in agony, I look downwards and see myself robed in a hospital gown sitting in a strange bed and feeling the horrible feeling of knowing…knowing a horrible truth.

My baby is dead. My baby…is _dead._

_Whew, the end of chapter four. What is going to happen now? Is Vegeta going to come back to find out what happened to Bulma, and how is Bulma going to deal with the loss of her child? To find out, stay tuned for the next chapter. Also, let me know if this story is making sense. I'm finding it to be very difficult writing in the first person, but this is a good learning experience, so I'm going to keep at it! So please read and review!_


	5. Author's Note

Hello. This little note is to let you know that I have not forgot about updating Don't Ever Let Go! I know that I said school was out for me and updates would be more frequent. But the month of May has been more hectic for me then I foresaw. My brother got married last weekend and I went on vacation for a week before the wedding to visit with my family. I also am leaving on another weeklong trip out to Colorado today, I'm starting a new full-time job, and I've been sick with a really bad cold. I have been working on the next chapter but since it takes me a long time to write, I have not had the time to sit down and compose. I will try to have the next update done by next weekend, and if not, I apologize. I just thought I would let those of you that read my story know why it is taking me a long time to update.

Thanks-

Vegamarie


	6. Chapter 5

_Yes, I have been terrible about updating when I said that I would…please forgive me. As I said, now that my life is sort of calming down, I'll try to be more frequent with the updates. So here is the next chapter. And thanks again to everyone who has reviewed. It really makes my day!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of its characters._

_Chapter 5_

Vegeta 

I can't stop thinking about her. Seeing her lying on the bathroom floor, blood leaking out of her body. The mental imagery disturbs my fragile sense of control over my emotions because seeing her like that has brought back half forgotten memories of broken and bloody corpses, corpses made out of the billions of beings I sacrificed for the might of the Ice-jin Empire. More importantly, I can't stop thinking about the fact that I ran away from her. _I_ ran away from the situation without doing anything to alleviate her pain or her suffering. I feel like I've condemned her to that fate I inflicted on so many others. Holding back a shudder, I try to hold back the tears that are forming at the corners of my eyes. The more I look back at what has just happened, the more I realize that I'm still the monster I was before, and the fact that I realize my wrongs isn't helping to relieve my own suffering. I _hate_ myself.

Swallowing raggedly, I snap open my tightly closed eyes and wait for them to adjust to the dimness that surrounds me. Quickly scrubbing away the tears that have slowly trickled down my face, I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin upon them as I look out across the expanse of the desert around me.

I'm back at the place that always seems to beckon to me when I'm feeling particularly wretched; the goddamned crater that Kakarrot's brat created when he killed Cell. It's been a few weeks since I've been out here, but nothing has changed since then. Looking over the lip of the crater, I crinkle my swollen eyes slightly as I watch the sun begin to peak over the edge of the mountains in the distance. I must have dozed off for a little while, though to tell the truth, I don't feel rested at all. Instead, an overwhelming sense of despair threatens to suffocate me. There have only been a few times in my adult life when the protective barriers surrounding my mental and emotional controls have ever been completely breached. When I lay dying before Freeza, before my son was born, after my son from the future was slaughtered before me, and right after Cell was defeated. At the moment, I'm desperately trying to stay in control of myself, but that is proving to be especially difficult when flashes of Bulma's anguished face press their way into my mind's eye, reminding me once again of memories from past that I would rather not have to face.

Choking back a growl, I find myself swirling back in time to when I first began my training to become a killing machine. I was so young, yet I was already a weapon to be used and disposed of accordingly. I remember being excited over my first purging mission, determined to show my father that I had what it took to be the next King of all Saiya-jins. I exterminated half of a planet in half a day's time without having to transform, which was certainly a feat of achievement for a four year Saiya-jin cub. It wasn't until I found myself up against a woman and her child who was probably not much younger than myself when something weak within me clawed its way out of my gut. There was something inordinately wrong about killing something as defenseless as a child when I myself was only a child. Yet, I killed the brat and its mother because I couldn't lose face in front of my men, and most importantly, in front of my father. I boasted about my success, yet that same night, I hid myself in a closet and cried, not understanding the reason behind it. Soon after that, I found myself alone in the world except for my bodyguard and Kakarrot's weakling brother, enslaved under the worst sort of tyrant imaginable. I committed atrocities that make the war crimes on this planet look like acts of goodness before I was the age of ten. And through it all, I learned to block away everything that bothered me, everything that made me weak. Until I came here. Until I met Kakarrot and Bulma.

She thinks I have changed perhaps, but watching her like that and doing nothing to aid her, even when I really didn't know what to do or how to act is only helping to solidify the fact that I'm not the person she wants me to be. Nor will I ever be. I've become a weak and selfish being, confused about my purpose in life, with no goals and no true aspirations any longer. And I'm not even worthy to be her mate. I'm sinking to a new low in life, and at the moment, I'm not above finally destroying the misery that is my stinking life. However, thoughts of her and thoughts of such a cowardly action also help to give me a reality check. Though I may be a coward, I have never taken the easy way out of a situation, no matter how much I might wish to. Perhaps it has something to do with my Saiya-jin pride. Who the fuck knows? At any rate, wallowing in my own self-imposed torment isn't something I should be doing at the current moment.

Gritting my teeth, I start re-erecting my damaged walls, trying to quell the worry that is rapidly rising in my gut over the condition of my mate. Standing up, I stretch to pull out the kinks in my muscles from sitting for such a long period of time without moving. Kicking a pebble with my bare foot, since I had left my boots in the living room without retrieving them when I left, I let out a deep breath. I have to look calm and I have to look in control. Chewing on my bottom lip, I take a look around at my surroundings, once again facing the reality of all the fucked up things I've done since I came to the Planet Earth. And the list of my misdeeds just keeps growing larger and larger. Shaking off some of the hopelessness that has descended upon me, I take off into the early morning sunlight, heading back once again to the place where I live.

Flying low over the ground, I have time to think out a plan of action. No doubt, there will be people present when I let myself into the house. Normally, I avoid Bulma's erratic and unpredictable parents as well as my son, to a certain extent. However, avoiding them is not something I can afford to do on this particular morning. I have no idea where Bulma is, if they took her to the infirmary or somewhere else. Or for that matter, what her condition is. And I certainly cannot appear before her weakling parents looking as though I've been crying like a baby. Only two people have ever been allowed to see me in such a state of weakness: Kakarrot and Bulma. And of the two, only Bulma is the one whom I do not hold anything against. But that is another circumstance altogether. Fisting my hands, I pick up speed and soar up above until I am almost touching the fleeting wisps of icy clouds above me.

In less time then I would have liked to take, I find myself automatically touching down on the front lawn outside of Capsule Corporation. Everything looks normal, as if last night had not occurred at all. The only thing that is out of place is the patch of burned grass left over from my botched training of my son. Shaking my head angrily, I pull my arms down to my sides and then purposefully walk towards the front door. Opening the door, I make my way inside and head towards the kitchen, my stomach still in synch even if the rest of me is not.

It isn't until I walk in the kitchen that I realize the extent of what has happened to my mate. Sitting at the table with an overly large spoon in his chubby fist is my son, greedily shoving cereal into his mouth. Bulma is nowhere to be seen and neither are her parents. Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms and let out a grunt of irritation to hide some of the worry that is lacing its way through my system. The brat is seldom if ever left to his own devices in the kitchen, since he has the tendency to destroy everything that he touches. I can see for myself that someone must have helped him in getting his breakfast, but it is not like the knit-whit or the Woman to leave him unattended.

Looking over at him, I can see clearly that he finally notices my presence, especially when he starts to double his eating speed. In less then a second, he's choking up the cereal he couldn't swallow, milk and food spraying across the table. Growling at him, I make my way slowly around the table and head towards the refrigerator, pulling it open and yanking food out of it without looking to see exactly what it is. Slamming the door shut, I throw everything onto the countertop behind me and then turn to my son, who is still coughing up his breakfast.

"Trunks, don't eat like a pig. You are a Prince, so act like one."

He just nods his head stupidly, trying to hide the fact that he's beginning to tear up from the harshness of my voice. I watch as he drops the spoon he's holding on to and slides out of his booster seat, landing neatly onto the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Scampering out as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, he pushes the door open and disappears around the corner. Rubbing my forehead in frustration, not for the first time around my brat do I feel like a complete ass. It angers me when he starts crying, but it wasn't my intent to get rid of him, leaving me alone with the mess he left behind. Had Bulma been here, this wouldn't have happened. Even though I dislike her pampering of him, she has a way of smoothing down his ruffled feathers. After all, she is his mother through and through.

Seating myself at the table, I open up the food in front of me, noticing that it's a leftover part of a bento and some dried fish. Not a particularly appetizing meal or snack, but I don't feel like digging around for something else. And looking at the mess of milk and half-chewed cereal across from me doesn't make that option seem appealing at all. Chewing methodically, I take in a deep breath through my nose and let it out slowly. A stress headache is starting to form behind my temples and I feel like shit after staying up all night long. And the worry about my mate is eating away at my insides, making me feel uncomfortable and uneasy. I have never been a worrier, taking action before I could begin to think of the consequences. However, last night and if I'm honest with myself, the previous few months, have been slowly turning me into a somewhat anxious individual. I don't like these feelings inside of me, so the only remedy I can think of is to swallow my pride and find the old couple so I can find out what is wrong with my mate. Thankfully, I don't have to do anything since at the exact moment, Bulma's nutty mother finally makes an appearance.

She seems surprised to see me and perhaps happy at the same time. But those fleeing emotions are replaced by a mask of uneasiness that only accentuates the dark circles underneath her eyes and the fact that she doesn't have her make-up or hair done. To see her, the epitome of shallowness and superficiality, in such a state only makes me all the more concerned. Clenching my fists tightly, digging my fingernails into the flesh of my palms, I try desperately to quell my discomfort. But since she's here, I don't feel the need to ask her any questions, knowing full well that she'll eventually supply me with the information I need. Taking a bite of the dried fish in front of me, I watch her out of the corner of my eyes as she takes a rag out of the sink and cleans up Trunks's mess before she settles herself across from me. As soon as she is seated, I know she's going to talk, so I slowly set my fork down and cross my arms, waiting for whatever news she has about my mate.

"Trunks didn't finish his breakfast."

Rolling my eyes at such an insipid comment, I let out a snort of irritation. Leave it to the idiot female to make note of the obvious before giving me vital and important information.

"Was he in here when you got back Vegeta?"

I don't have time for this. Slamming my fist down on the table, I watch as she jumps slightly in her chair and opens her eyes, showing the clear blue that both my mate and my son inherited from her side of the family. I quell a small amount of guilt for being a bully, but she is insufferable and if I don't take control, who knows how long I'll be stuck listening to her inane chatter. Leaning over the table towards her, I bare my canines and look her straight in the eye.

"Look here female, what the fuck does it matter if the brat was in here when I got back? He's not here anymore. Now, you will tell me what the hell is wrong with my mate before I tear your weak body apart limb from limb, understood?"

Watching her nod her head slightly, I push my way back down into my chair and cross my arms, waiting for her to finally spill the news I want to hear.

"Vegeta…Vegeta I know you must be upset about last night."

Me, upset? Huh, I want to laugh in her fucked up face. She has no fucking clue about what I'm feeling, and why should she? I want to sneer at her and make her squirm in her seat, but I also want to hear the rest of the shit she's going to spill out of her mouth. So I just ignore her comment and stare at her with an unflinching gaze until she continues on.

She licks her lips, much like Bulma does when she's nervous or uncomfortable and then proceeds to clear her throat before continuing on.

"She didn't really want you to leave. Bulma, that is. She…she just doesn't know how you are going to react sometimes and she's just as proud as you are, you know. She didn't want you to see her like that. But at the same time, she wanted you to be her strength."

I swallow slightly, sensing this much to be true about the woman who bears my mark. Once again, I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and betrayal for leaving her like that, but what else could I do? What more could she have wanted from me? I'm not the type to give out comfort or affection because I don't understand it or feel comfortable doing so. And I know that she understands that about me. But I left her to die. I _left_ her.

I don't realize until my mother-in-law touches my arm that I've been staring off into space. Giving her a death glare for daring to touch my body, I watch as she retreats back across the table and lets out a long sigh.

"Look Vegeta, I don't know how much she told you about…about certain things. She's been having a difficult time with this pregnancy. And sometimes, for whatever reason, a woman's body will reject the child growing inside of it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nod my head dumbly at her. I knew Bulma was having problems. How could I not, seeing as we sleep in the same bed together? But she never once told me that her body was rejecting the brat, that that was what was making her sick. She just kept acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary. And the more I think about it, I realize that there really wasn't any reason for her to tell me. It wasn't as though I had been acting in a very accepting or accommodating manner around her, especially since I was still angry over her failure to tell me she was pregnant in the first place. Just like me, she contained her problems and fears, but unlike me, it was because she didn't want to be a bother and she didn't want to make me upset.

Looking over across the table at my mother-in-law, I can tell that there is more to what she has to say and my uneasiness increases exponentially. Growling, I lash out at her to hide my uncertainty.

"Just spill it, old woman! What else are you going to tell me?"

Clenching my jaw, I watch as she lets out a sigh and pushes back a few of her platinum curls that have managed to make their way into her face.

"Bulma had a miscarriage early this morning. She lost your baby. I'm sorry Vegeta."

Looking at her, I see pity and sadness in her gaze. Part of me wants to call her a liar, part of me is relieved, and another part of me feels guilty over feeling any sort of relief. If what she's saying is true, then the brat inside Bulma's womb is dead. I don't know what to say or even how the woman across from me expects me to act.

"The child is dead. Is B…is the Woman…is she alive?"

"Yes, Bulma's fine. She was in a lot of pain. They sedated her and she wasn't even aware when her body finally gave birth to your child. I stayed with her last night until she woke up. She's…she's fine physically but I think this is going to affect her. It's going to be very difficult."

Letting out a breath that I had been holding, I watch as she slowly stands up and pushes in the kitchen chair. Standing up as well, I'm not at all prepared for what happens next. Still trying to let her information sink into my mind, I don't realize she's in front of me until I find her arms around my mid-section, hugging my body close to hers. Dumbly, I find myself weakly responding to her motherly comfort. It takes everything I have not to give into my earlier distress up at the crater. Thankfully, it's over quickly. She releases my body from my grip and then backs up a bit, looking at me nervously. Trying not to meet her gaze, I can sense a blush starting to spread across my cheeks and I'm embarrassed by my reaction. She's never once dared to touch me in such a manner, and since I mostly only think of her with contempt, I'm surprised at how right and how good such a ridiculous action feels. Still, my pride won't allow me to show any sort of fragility in front of her or anyone else. Putting on my mask of indifference, I stiffen my body and look towards where she is standing awkwardly.

"Where is your daughter?"

I notice when she lets out a slight sigh, as if to say she's relieved I'm not going to blow up over her serious infraction into my personal space.

"Bulma's at West City Memorial Hospital. She'll most likely be there for another day. Are you going to go visit her? I know she would want you to see her. It would mean a lot to my little girl."

"Look here, it isn't any of your business what I plan on doing and how those plans concern your daughter."

She shakes her head slightly at my acidic tone and then she backs away and heads towards to door, leaving me blessedly alone once more. However, before she leaves the room, she turns around and gives me a sad smile.

"Vegeta, if you need anything, either you, Bulma, or Trunks, just ask myself or Dr. Briefs. You are family after all and that's what families are for."

With that silly statement left hanging in the air, she finally opens the door and leaves. Sitting back down at the table, I slowly start to finish eating the dried fish and partial bento in front of me, digesting the information my mother-in-law was so good to provide.

The child is dead. There will be no baby. And Bulma is still alive. All of these things together leave me with a sense of agitation, for lack of a better word. I'm not particularly upset that my unborn child is no longer of this world, but at the same time, there is a feeling of sadness within myself that something I created has suffered the same fate of almost anything that has been good or held meaning in my life.

Then there is the overwhelming sense of relief that my mate is not dead, that the god's did not decide to take her away from me. In fact, the sensation is so strong that I feel my legs begin to shake. To have such a strong emotional reaction over a person is something I'm not used to, only having had a similar reaction when my future son was slaughtered in front of me. In that case, the feelings emitted were rage, anger, and sorrow. Feelings of relief are completely new to me and this also adds to the pile of things that have contributed to my weakness. My burgeoning humanity as it is. Not really feeling hungry, I push my uneaten food away from me and slowly stand up. Leaving the kitchen, I make a decision about what I'm going to do. I have to see my mate, whether I truly want to or not. Call it a penance, but she does deserve that much respect from someone as screwed up as myself. We haven't been on very good terms with one another lately, but if she really wants to spend time in my company, so be it.

Making my way up to our bedroom, I notice that everything has been cleaned and replaced since last night. Letting out a breath of relief, I relax my body and make my way once again towards the closet, realizing for perhaps the first time that I'm only in my boxers and a T-shirt and that I just spent an entire night out in the desert like that. What a fucking moron I am. Feeling stupid, I pull off the dirty shorts and shirt and pull out a fresh pair, sliding them up my legs. Looking through the closet, I take out an undershirt, a dark blue button-down shirt, a pair of khaki pants, a pair of socks and some halfway decent shoes. No doubt the human freaks at the hospital would not approve if I appeared in my usual training gear, and for once, I don't want to make trouble for my mate. Putting on my clothes, I take a good look at myself in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair.

Feeling satisfied, I make my way to the balcony, leaping off and once again finding myself flying through the air. I'm not looking forward to this, but I also have the sense to realize that I need to see with my own eyes that my woman is alive, that she is all right. I need to prove to her somehow that…that I'm worth putting trust into. That I can protect her. I've come to a realization and the realization is unnerving. I've become dependent upon her and without her, my life, no matter how worthless it is, would have no meaning in it at all.

Bulma

That dream. My baby. Those are the only two things that keep running through my mind. Touching my belly, I try to keep back the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes. I have to be strong. For my family. I have to be.

I don't know how long I've been awake. My mother left about an hour before and I've been in here thinking of all the things I did wrong. Of what I could have done differently that would have allowed my little one to survive. All I can think is that it's not fair. I wanted him so badly. I wanted to hold him, rock him, care for him and now, I'll never have that chance. All because I was a coward. All because I was too afraid to deal with the reality of my situation.

I wanted to be strong. I didn't want to add to Vegeta's mental instability by telling him about my fears. And I didn't want him to see me in such a state of anguish. What must he think of me, seeing me crying on the bathroom floor? He probably thinks I'm just a weak female and no doubt, he won't be coming anywhere near me again. I told him to leave. I rejected his help. If anything, that is the greater of the two evils. I've already shown him through my actions of not telling him about the baby that I don't believe in him, that I don't trust him. All of these thoughts put together finally helps to open up the floodgate of tears I've been trying so valiantly to hold back.

Holding my middle, I bend over and weep into my hospital blanket. It's so unfair. I want to curse Dende. I want to howl at the supposed god's that keep our universe balanced. What right did they have to take away my baby?

Letting out a sob, I can see his features as they appeared in my dream. His clear blue eyes and dark brown hair exactly like Vegeta's. The sadness in his face because of his knowledge that he would never get the chance to live in this plane of existence. Even if Vegeta wasn't happy about having another child, I know he would have been proud of his son. Another Saiya-jin Prince to carry on his family's legacy. And now, that would never, ever be.

I don't know how long I sit hunched over in my bed sobbing, when a nurse pokes her head into my bedroom door. She looks at me awkwardly and then steps inside the room, closing the door behind her.

"How are you feeling Miss Briefs?"

I don't even bother to answer that question. How could she ask something so stupid? Isn't it obviously clear how I'm feeling? Leaning back into my pillow, I watch as she shifts her feet awkwardly before continuing.

"Do you feel up to any visitors?"

Well, that wasn't what I was expecting. Who would be visiting me? As far as I know, no one except for my mother and father knew what had happened last night and my mother had just left. I really don't feel like entertaining anyway. I just want to lay down and die, that's how horrible I'm feeling at the moment. But my curiosity is piqued, so I ask who it is. I'm surprised and dismayed when she tells me who the mysterious visitor is.

"A man named Vegeta. He says he's your husband."

I ask her to repeat herself, and when she does, I ignore the strange look she gives me. I don't want him to see me like this, but what can I do? If I send him away, he'll only hate me all the more. Pushing back my hair, I tell her he can come in. I watch as she leaves the room, only to feel an attack of nerves I haven't felt ever since the time when Dr. Gero destroyed the air car I was in with Yajirobe and Vegeta did nothing to save me and our infant from certain death. I don't know what to say to him or even how he's going to react towards me. To say that Vegeta has ever really shown me any sort of caring is somewhat of an understatement. Yet I ended up mating with him and we've been in a rocky relationship for years. I have no idea how he's going to react, or how much he even knows, let alone how he figured out where I am. I don't have time for anymore thoughts because almost as soon as the nurse leaves, Vegeta steps into the room.

Looking at him, I know that he probably got little to no sleep last night, and that surprises me slightly. He looks almost as bad as I feel, except for the fact that he obviously took the time to dress nicely before coming. He shifts his feet, looking both awkward and uncomfortable, two things I have never witnessed in my husband. On most occasions, he has the bad habit of hiding his discomfort either by shouting, acting inordinately rude, or by leaving the situation altogether. Looking into his eyes, I can see that he is relieved and for once, I can feel that he is relieved through the bond we share from the time we first mated with one another. It doesn't make sense to me. Why would he feel relief over me? Watching him, I see that he notices a chair, and he pulls it up closer to the bed I'm lying in and seats himself, crossing his ankles and folding his arms across his chest as he has the habit of doing.

After he's made himself comfortable, I notice he's watching me just as I'm watching him. He clears his throat slightly, indicating to me that he's trying to say something.

"Woman, there…perhaps there will be others."

That is definitely not what I was expecting him to say, although honestly, I have no idea what Vegeta would say anyway, never having been in circumstances like this with him. I don't know if he's just saying that in a strange attempt to comfort me or if he's actually serious, but his statement makes a whole new set of tears pour out of my eyes. Choking back a sob, I find myself once again wrapping my arms around the part of me that had so recently held our unborn child.

"Veg…Vegeta…he's dead. I couldn't st…stop it. I c…couldn't."

Rocking myself, I blubber out inconsolably, the misery of the whole ordeal taking over my reluctance to act in such a manner in front of Vegeta. For minutes on end, I cry, trying to expel the almost unending grief that is washing its way through my body. So consumed in my own misery, I'm not even aware of the bed shifting or of finding my body pulled into a tight embrace. It isn't until I hear a deep, raspy voice whispering my name slowly into my ear that I realize where my husband is.

He has his arms around me, his chin resting on the top of my head as he rocks me back and forth gently. I crave this sort of comfort, and I'm surprised to be finding it in the arms of the last person I could ever think of who would be able to give it. Yet this is what I need. Laying my head across his chest, I sob into it until I can't produce any more tears. Then I just hiccup weakly into it, taking in deep breaths and smelling the slightly musky scent that is all Vegeta.

Feeling his arms around me, some of my deep anguish leaves. Relaxing into his warmth, I can feel his breath tickling across the top of my scalp. He doesn't let me go, but some of the strength in his arms dissipates as he shifts slightly behind me. I feel myself beginning to doze off. Just before I fall asleep, I can hear him whisper something to me. Another surprise from the enigma that is my husband.

"Bulma. Do not blame yourself for this. I'm…I'm just glad to know that you are not hurt. That you have not become another victim."

_What does this mean for Vegeta and Bulma? And what about Trunks? Will Bulma recover from her loss and will Vegeta ever let go of his demons? Find out in the next chapter! And please review!_


	7. Chapter 6

_Here is the next chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint! In addition, thanks so much for all of the positive reviews! __Bulma and Vegeta fan, __MystiKoorime__, Eterna Dragon, __Pearl3, __Cosmo3k3, __WhiteLighter Princess Bulma, __Morgain Croix, __jdeppgirl4, __Musette Fujiwara__, Essence-chan__, Yari, __Nocturnalwitch__, and __Cappuccino Penguin_

_Chapter 6_

Bulma

_I just want to die_.

_I want the pain to stop. _

_I want the misery to end. Please God, let it just end._

If I thought the first day after losing my child was horrible, I never would have imagined the absolute reality of what the next few days and then weeks would bring to me. In my life, I have suffered relatively few losses. Looking back, those losses are nothing that would be considered all that important in hindsight. Of course, at the times when those…those material wants disappeared, I felt like my little microcosm of me was ending. I made huge fusses out of those changes, selfishly thinking that those things were what made me as an individual and I didn't like how they destroyed part of what I considered the perfection of myself. Not being able to be the first person to make a wish on the Dragon Balls, breaking up with Yamucha, finding myself pregnant and unmarried. Yet, in all of those instances, what was taken away was given back to me in such a way that vastly improved the life I was living. I did not get to wish on the Dragon Balls, but the friends I made were the kind that last forever. I never really loved Yamucha, and although I can't say that I will ever understand Vegeta or be able to get to know what makes him tick, I love him so very much. Moreover, the gift of Trunks was the best thing that had ever happened in my life, even if the circumstances surrounding his birth were less then perfect. Actually losing something as tangible as a life that you have created is something, however, that changes your life in irrevocable ways as I was beginning to discover.

The first day I came back from the hospital, all I wanted was to be left alone. Left alone to cry in shame over my loss. I didn't want to see anyone, not even my own son who had no idea what had happened to his mommy. All he knew was that I had had to go to the doctor's office and that I had been sick. No one had told him that his baby brother was dead. In fact, as far as I knew, no one had even told him he was going to be an older brother. I hadn't told him because I wasn't sure how to broach the subject, especially since Vegeta had been so angry about how I had hid the truth from him. How would it have looked in his eyes to have me tell our son openly about my pregnancy? I know it would have been like another slap in the face to him, like more salt being rubbed into an already sore and festering wound.

Trunks had missed me terribly, never really having been apart from me for more than half of a day. The first day I had been in the hospital, my mother had been so exhausted, she had given Trunks a bowl of cereal and then had left him alone in the kitchen. Vegeta, having never been left in the role as sole responsible parent, had left him alone as well, disappearing from Capsule Corporation altogether until I finally came home. So the first thing that my little boy did was to run at me and cling to my leg, sobbing about how much he had wanted me.

Having him there, telling me in his own way how much he loved me and needed me should have helped lift some of the overwhelming despair that had entered into my heart. It didn't though. I didn't have the energy or motivation to give him the love he so desperately wanted. I didn't want to pretend. All I wanted was to go upstairs, lie down and then fall asleep. Realizing that just made me feel even worse. I was worthless to my son. I couldn't give him what he needed, so wrapped up in my own grief as I was. I pushed him away from me, giving him to my mother instead to deal with. I couldn't look at him, especially when he begged me to hold him. He _begged _me. However, I couldn't give him the comfort that only a mother's arms can give, so torn over the loss of my other son. Seeing the one alive in front of me was putting a new perspective on the death of the other. Why should one live and the other die? Who makes such choices? Why should there even be a choice?

Since that first day, I've tried to shake the overwhelming depression that seems to have taken over my life. The guilt over how I treated Trunks at least has had the effect of having me try to act like myself, at least for him. But it is _so_ difficult. It's difficult to be the Bulma that everyone thinks I should be and I know I'm failing miserably at it. That's how I end upstairs, locking myself into my room. Leaning my frame against it, I slide down into a heap and wrap my arms around myself, letting the tears that have been threatening to fall finally slide down my cheeks.

I just can't be what people expect me to be. I just can't, not all alone. I know they say that being strong helps you to overcome all sorts of obstacles in life. Why is it that it's taking everything I have not to just give up on things? Maybe this is just another testament to how cowardly I really am. Or perhaps this sinking feeling of loss can't be helped. I just wish I didn't feel like losing my baby was my entire fault. But I do.

Letting out a shuddering breath, I wipe my eyes and stare at the bed in front of me. My room looks perfect. It's amazing how technology can wipe away the history of an event to the point where only the memories exist. Unfortunately, there isn't a way to erase those as well.

Stretching out my legs in front of me, that night comes back to haunt me as it does every time I find myself alone. How I ignored the signs. How I tried to take care of things on my own. And most of all, how I rejected the help from somebody whom probably needed that reassurance of trust more than anything else.

Because of my rejection, I'm sure that's why he's avoiding me again. It's almost as if his visit to the hospital was a dream, something I wanted so badly to have happened that I made it all up inside of my head. The lord knows, since I've been home for the last three weeks or so, I've hardly seen him at all except for meals. He isn't even sleeping in the same room with me anymore. No doubt, I'm the one that's driving this change in his behavior. He probably hates me. No matter that he told me there would be others, how can there be others when he doesn't even want to be next to me? Moreover, how can there be others when I don't want to deal with him either? It's just so…so fucked up, our relationship, our family. Completely broken in half, shattered because there is no communication of anything.

Closing my eyes, I try to imagine what even brought the two of us together in the first place. I can remember being terrified of him and loathing him at the same time when I finally met him in person on Namek. Here he was, the man responsible in some measure for the death of my boyfriend, looking for the same prize that Kuririn, Gohan and I were seeking but for vastly differing reasons. He was loathsome because he was a sadistic brute, enjoying the misery he inflicted on others. That's how I saw him. And he was terrifying because of his tremendous power and how he could flaunt it effortlessly in front of his weaker foes. Yet, I invited him to stay at Capsule after he was wished back to life and brought here with the Namek-jins who had also been slaughtered by Freeza. That's when everything shifted, when everything changed.

At first, he still terrified me and I avoided him as much as possible. But somehow, for whatever reason, after he left to go and bring back Goku, I decided in my head that I wouldn't be cowed by him; that _he_ would have to listen to me. The first time I told him what to do, I thought for sure it was going to be the end of me. However, he didn't kill me. That's when I started to see him in a different light, that perhaps the person he showed to everyone else really wasn't the true Vegeta.

It also happened that I was finally coming to a realization that whatever Yamucha and I had had in the past was fading away from us. When he finally broke it off with me, the first person I turned to was the last person I would have ever imagined myself going to. But he didn't turn me away. True, he didn't act like he cared about me and he certainly didn't tell me he loved me, but all I wanted at the time was to just have somebody there to listen to me rant and to comfort me with their presence. Why Vegeta, I still don't know. I think it was because I knew he was lonely and he didn't really fit in with normal society. Not that he would have ever admitted to such an assumption on my part. There was something that resonated between the two of us, something I felt with him that I had never felt with Yamucha. And now, while I still feel that connection with him all these years later, I know that our own separate personal demons are what are driving us apart from one another.

I can't go on like this. I can't keep trying to fix Vegeta's problems now on top of my own. I can't be a corporate heiress, a mother, and a problem solver when I feel so numb and broken on the inside. That's how I end up in my room every night, crying until my eyes can't produce anymore tears. I know that crying doesn't make things better or problems go away, but it makes me feel a little better to at least release some of the pressure inside of me.

Wiping away some of the wetness from my face, I let out a shuddering sigh and decide if I should get up from where I'm sitting or if I should just stay there. I don't want to go back downstairs to the demands of my family, but sitting up here in the dark just makes my mood that much more despondent. I think I must have been sitting in front of the door for a good half an hour when something catches the corner of my eye. Tilting my head towards the balcony entrance, I notice that the door is open, blowing the curtains to and fro. That's when it hits me. I'm not alone any longer. My 'sanctuary' has been breached.

"How long are you going to sit there before you decide to move?"

Zoning in on the voice of my husband, I can see him sitting cross legged on our bed with his arms crossed, staring at me as though he's trying to piece together a puzzle. Feeling foolish for missing his presence, I scramble up onto my feet and then turn to open the door. If I stay any longer, I know that he'll just try to provoke me into a fight or something equally ridiculous, something that doesn't seem appealing to me at all.

"Leaving so soon? Well, don't let me keep you from whatever it is that obviously wasn't important a half an hour ago."

Flinching, I can feel the raw edge of Vegeta's voice through the razor sharpness of his biting sarcasm. Knowing him, learning about him over the years even if I haven't figured out everything there is to know about him, I can sense through his posture and his voice that he's…that he's nervous and agitated about something. He usually doesn't get this way unless there is something that is truly bothering him. He's not one to mince words, but he's also not the type of person who easily lets others know when he's uncomfortable about something. I really, _really_ want to leave, but I also know that if I don't stay, things between us are going to only become that much worse. Once you cross a line with Vegeta, it takes him a very long time to be forgiving and I don't want him to disapprove of me anymore then he already does. Backing away from the door, I let my hand slip to my side and turn towards where he is sitting.

"How long have you been spying on me?"

"Woman, don't try to land the guilt on me. If you weren't so preoccupied with your own misery, you would have known when I entered the room."

With that said, I watch as he slides his legs over the side of the bed and then stands up. I don't know why, but I'm suddenly afraid of what he's going to try to do to me. In all honesty, it's a stupid fear. For all that Vegeta has been a horrible person in the past, I came to the realization long ago that although he is more then capable of hurting me with words, he is not the type to act in a physically abusive manner. Still, there is something about his edginess that's contagious and I know that whatever he's going to say to me, it's something that I'm probably not going to want to deal with. Licking my lips, I try to think of anything to get out of this confrontation.

"I have to go check up on Trunks."

He's onto that one as soon as it exits my mouth. A dark smirk forms on his face and he takes a step closer to where I'm standing by the door, ready to escape at any second.

"Ha, is that all the better you can do? Your mother is watching him downstairs. And why is it that after neglecting him since you've been back, suddenly you have an ardent desire to know what he's up to? Don't make me laugh!"

Pushing back the guilty feelings over what he just said because I know there is truth behind his words, I let out some of the anger I've been bottling up inside come out.

"Don't even start with me Vegeta about neglecting our son. You have _no_ room to talk about that. I've been doing the best I can and where have you been all this time? Training alone in the desert? Avoiding your…your _family_? Maybe things aren't that great right now but you have no right to tell me how to behave when you can't even follow the same rules you dictate towards me."

With that said, I turn back around to make my exit, trying to escape from him and his suffocating presence. Pressing the button to the door, I make a silent prayer in my head that Vegeta won't get any ideas in his head to try and stop me through physical means. I'm almost through the door when I hear him call my name quietly, a soft whisper so inaudible that I almost missed it. Turning so that I'm half in our room and half in the hallway, I wait.

"What is happening to you?"

Blinking my eyes, I try to cover my surprise over such a question coming from Vegeta. It's as though I've been reading the tenseness between the two of us all wrong. That perhaps, he doesn't really hate me if he's wondering what private hell I'm going through. But the cynical part of me just wants to laugh over such an overly sentimental and ridiculous thought coming from a lonely, depressed and worthless female. Turning on him, I let my angry persona do the talking.

"What is happening to me? Can't you tell? Don't you _know_? I would think that you, out of everybody on this planet, you would be the one to understand after having lost so much in your life Vegeta. But that's the problem, isn't it? You ask me what's happening as though you actually care about me, yet you're avoiding this problem just as much as I am."

He's still standing next to the bed, but the earlier edginess seems to have fled his system. Instead, he looks hunched over and defeated and I have no idea what to make of his sudden change in confidence and bravado. Slamming a rising sensation of worry over his own mental stability, I make another try at leaving the room that I used to share with him. Slipping through the door, I walk quickly through the hallway and then down the stairs towards my lab, my heart racing and my head pounding.

Opening the door to the lab, I slip inside and lock it, relieved that he hasn't followed me down here. Walking over to my desk, I settle down into my chair and grip the handles, trying to gain control over the assortment of thoughts racing through my brain. Logging on to my computer, I skim through some of the projects I had been working on prior to…I don't want to think about that day. Finding one that looks complicated, I open up a file and start working on it. For once in my life, I'm grateful for all of the work Capsule Corporation provides me with. I know it's a terrible thing, to push my actual feelings and thoughts out of my head by focusing on something that doesn't bring me pain or makes me feel guilty, but again, I realize that I can't deal with the shit in my life. I don't want to think about Vegeta, about Trunks, and certainly about the child that is dead. And if working down in the bowels of Capsule is the only thing that will take me away from the immediate problems in front of me, so be it. I know eventually, I'll have to do something about this problem, but at this moment in time, I just want relief. _Relief…_

Vegeta

It is late. I have no idea why such a random thought crosses my conscious awareness, but there it is. Perhaps it has something to do with guilt. I'm so sick of that wretched feeling but it has become my intimate acquaintance ever since the death of Kakarrot. No, I stand corrected. Before then, when my first son was born to me. In the past, however, it was easy for me to relegate such an emotional tendency to another place altogether. What did I truly have to feel guilty about? Leaving Bulma to train in space? Being a worthless Prince with nothing but an outdated title and my enormous sense of pride?

Stretching my arm out in front of me, I send a blast of ki careening across the arid expanse of desert in front of me, not caring where it hits. Sighing, I collapse onto the ground and rest my chin on top of the palm of my hand.

It has been difficult for me since my mate came back. When her mother had told me the loss of the child would be hard on Bulma, I had no concept of what that would entail. True, my mate has become quieter towards me within the last year and she has also started to hide things from me that she would not have done in the past. But to see such change in her overall personality, I had not realized how that would affect our son or…or even myself. I can see daily how she suffers and she is correct; I do know what it is like to lose something important, something precious. But that does not mean I know how to effectively cope with such a loss. It wasn't until coming to this planet that I finally started to understand the gravity of allowing oneself to experience the depth and breadth of truly feeling. I am slowly learning these things, and I do not like them at all. In my mind, I know that is why the loss of Kakarrot has been so difficult for me as well as the growing realization I have over my responsibility towards my family. Although I have come to think of myself as a monstrosity, a killing machine, I also know that I am not the same self-professed sociopath I was when I came to Earth. Those who have become familiar with me are also aware of this change. In some ways, I wish that I was still that way. It was easier dealing with life when I wasn't burdened with…with _guilt_.

Grabbing a nearby rock with my free hand, I toss it into the air and then throw it in the same direction as the random ki blast I had just shot off. Again, the lateness of the hour beckons towards me, telling me that even if I do not wish to go back to the place where I live, I should because I know that Bulma worries when I don't come back. But that worry hasn't stopped me from avoiding that place since she has been back. It is not so much that I truly wish to be gone but the fact that seeing Bulma so lifeless and apathetic towards those who I know she deeply cares about bothers me more then I thought was possible. I've been a wretched mess ever since Kakarrot threw his life needlessly away, but watching her sink into a despair that I myself am intimately acquainted with…it leaves me with such a deep sense of disturbance that I cannot watch her transform into a husk of what she once was. Yet, I do not know how to bring her out of it. I can't even fix my own mental problems, so how the hell am I supposed to fix hers?

Crossing my legs underneath me, the stars twinkle above me, almost in a mockery of the darkness that lies sleeping beneath them. Is this what life is supposed to be like? I think back to when I first met Kakarrot and then later on, Bulma. Both of them had such fucking happy and optimistic attitudes about life, it made me angry. The cynic within thought they were so full of ridiculous hopes for the future, I wanted both of them to know that life is not a bed of roses. That life is nothing more then a succubus, taking and taking without giving anything back in return. How I wanted them to feel the sort of indignity and pain I had endured for years underneath Freeza, to show them how foolish they both were with their idiotic notions. Yet somehow, I could never let go of those thoughts, that perhaps one can experience joy along with the pain. And now that Bulma is finally finding out how miserable life can be, I wish I had never thought of such a vengeful punishment. She does not deserve to know that kind of suffering. No one does. That is what I have found for myself. But how can I make her back into the woman she was before she became pregnant for a second time? I don't have a clue.

Letting out a deep sigh, I can feel pressure building behind my eyes. I actually lowered myself today by going back to try and speak with her, try and reason her out of the darkness that she is allowing to take over her life. All I ended up doing was making her angry and fearful of me. I knew it was a mistake the minute I stepped into our room, watching her cry alone like she does every night when she thinks no one is there watching her. But I watch her, in atonement for abandoning her, though to see her like that, I'm beginning to hate it. I hate feeling so utterly helpless and so completely worthless because I cannot give her what she needs, as I found out once again when I tried to do something to make her snap out of her self-inflicted misery. But what can I do?

"Well, you could start by facing your uncertainties head on like the man that you say you are."

Tilting my head backwards, my eyes fall on the being levitating directly behind and above me. He's been my shadow for the last few weeks, but this has been the first time that he's dared to open his mouth in front of me. Twisting my mouth in a grimace, I snarl at him.

"Oh? What do you know about that Namek? Do you make it a habit to follow people around and then filter through their minds when you don't think they realize what you're doing? Fuck off and leave me alone!"

Turning back around, I stare at my feet and try to concentrate on other things besides the heavy presence of the Namek-jin. Swallowing slowly, I'm tempted to blast him for his insolence and then make a run for it. But I know that he'll just follow me to wherever I take off to. He's become something of my own personal plague and for some reason, although his presence irritates me, having someone to witness my solitude has a calming affect. He has obviously realized this as well or else he wouldn't have braved the stupid stunt he just pulled on me.

Losing myself to my own thoughts, I realize that he has either decided to ignore my edict or he's just stupid and brave enough to try my patience when I hear the gravel crunch behind me. Ignoring him, I hear him grunt slightly as he settles down on the ground next to where I'm sitting. I can feel the minutes tick by slowly, yet he makes no effort either to leave me be or to address me in some fashion. I don't like being played as an idiot and his presence is starting to have the unwanted effect of pissing me off. Deciding that ignoring him isn't going to work, I try a different approach.

"Namek, if you don't want to die a gruesome and painful death, I suggest you take yourself and go back to that shit hole you call a Lookout."

"Shut it Vegeta. You're all talk and no action. You wouldn't hurt me and you know it, so caught up in your own world of injustice and unfairness as it is."

Now he's really pissing me off. Who the hell does he think he is, making judgments about me? Standing up, I start powering up a ki blast just to prove how foolish his arrogant boast is when he catches me by surprise by delivering an elbow to my midsection. Grunting in pain and surprise, I find myself kneeling in the dust before him and it reminds me of the many times I found myself in a similar situation in front of Freeza. Feeling humiliated and shamed, I bury my forehead into the dust and try to ignore the uncomfortable feelings such thoughts are bringing back to me. God fucking Namek! His one action has completely unmanned me in front of him and he doesn't even realize it. My gut hurts and I can feel the stinging sensation of saline behind my closed eyelids. Why can't he just leave me alone? Does he despise me so much that he would wish to see me in such a humiliating posture?

"Vegeta."

Groaning, I try to ignore his voice. Pushing myself upright, I turn my face away from his so he can't see how much his action has disturbed me. Standing up, I quickly walk away from him, at least as fast as I can with my gut paining me. He landed a good punch to my midsection and since I wasn't ready for it, my ki guard was down. He probably ruptured something. I'm not one who normally runs from a good fight, and the Namek's actions are certainly asking for one. But with Kakarrot's death and my mate's problems, not to mention my own torment, the idea of fighting him doesn't seem appealing. It's easier just to run away like the fucking coward that I am. However, he seems to have other ideas in his green, pointy eared head.

He's in front of me, standing with his arms crossed like some sort of sentinel or portent of bad news. Snarling at him like some sort of rabid dog, I lunge and then teleport behind him when he goes for the bait. But, like a bad dream, I suddenly realize how the stress in my life has made my battle sense skewed when he's behind me, grabbing me around the chest and holding me so that I can't move my upper body. Kicking my legs, I try to aim a good kick to his privates, forgetting that Namek-jin's aren't blessed with such an exploitable weakness until I hear him laugh in my ear.

"Nice try Vegeta. Too bad it won't work."

"Fuck you Namek! Let me go, unless you really want to find the true meaning of pain!"

It's all I can do not to power up to Super Saiya-jin. I don't want to use that exalted form to fight such a lowly specimen such as the Namek-jin, but I've forgotten how strong he is with that old decrepit Namek residing within his body. Feeling desperate, I decide to play dirty. Aiming for his arm, I bite him as hard as I can, tasting the saltiness as his purple blood flows into my mouth. I can hear him grunt in pain, but he doesn't let me go.

"God Vegeta, you're acting like an animal."

"Just let me the fuck go!" I howl out at him in anger as my rage starts to blind me. I haven't felt this sort of anger is such a long time; it's hard to know how to react. I don't know if this was his intent by provoking me, but the Saiya-jin within my heart suddenly bursts to the surface. Grabbing a hold of his arm, I use all of my strength and rip it from him. I can hear him roar in pain at the loss of his limb and taking the opening provided for me, I push myself off his body, flip through the air and then crouch on the ground in a defensive posture, tossing his arm off to the side.

"Happy now Vegeta? Are you starting to feel like your old self again? I can't stand watching how pathetic you've become the last few years. Do you think Goku would want to have anything to do with you in your current state? You aren't even a challenge."

"I don't give a damn about Kakarrot. Who the hell do you think you are, telling me that I'm pathetic, that I'm _worthless?_ You have no god-damned right!"

Wiping his blood from my mouth, I step back and wait for his move. However, it isn't one that I expect. He moves a few meters back and then grunts as a new arm shoots out of the stump left from the one I ripped off. He lets out a sigh and then beckons for me to sit down. Well, I don't like being treated like a child and he's still making the anger inside of me hum. Spitting towards him, I turn my back and am about to walk away when his voice shoots through the silence.

"Sit down Vegeta. I'm not letting you leave until you and I have a little chat. If you try and leave, I'll stop you by force if necessary. I don't think Bulma would like you to come home all bruised and beat up."

I want to laugh. Would she even notice if I came back like that? The truth is, even in her current state, she would and I know that it certainly wouldn't help with things. But having him threaten me and act like my superior, it's…it's infuriating. Scoffing at him, I flip him off and then blast into the sky, only to be stopped once again by the Namek floating in front of me.

"I told you, I'm not letting you leave until you sit down and listen to what I have to say. Then you can go your own merry way and do whatever it is that you do."

"And I told you to fuck the hell off! What do you not understand about that, Namek? Leave…me…_alone_!"

Shoving him rudely out of the way, I don't get very far when I feel his knee in the same place he had hit me with his elbow. Gasping for air, I know what he's going to do and I try to block it, but it's too late. He's behind me before I know it, hammering his fists into my back, causing me to plunge face first to the ground below me. Putting up a ki shield at the last minute, the damage is minimal, but it's still there. Lying on the ground, I can feel blood trickling down my face and body from the numerous lacerations the impact with the hard earth caused. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, my blurry eyes zoom in to a pair of brown shoed feet directly in front of me.

"Are you enjoying this Namek? Are enjoying seeing me in such a state of humiliation?" I ask, swallowing back a sudden urge to let out a pent up sob of frustration and anger. I feel like I'm broken in front of him and he's enjoying the show of seeing the mighty Vegeta groveling at his feet…just like Freeza. His answer is surprising, though.

"No Vegeta, I'm not. But sometimes, you don't listen to reason. It was not my intention to fight with you, but it amazes me that one who is crying out for help is too thick to realize that it's there, even when it's punching him in the face."

With that said, he haunches down in the dirt, his hand extended towards me. I have a choice. I can either swallow what's left of my pride and humbly accept his hand, or I can spit in his face and find myself back in the same position I'm currently occupying. Neither choice sits well with me, but I have a feeling that when it all comes down to it, the Namek isn't going to give me a choice. Licking my lips and burying my humiliation, I do something I have seldom if ever done in my life: I accept his hand, though it burns the proud Prince deep within my soul to do so.

He pulls me up so that I can sit, but my ribs and back are aching from where he punched me. Leaning back on one of my arms, I let out a wheezing breath and am surprised when he pulls something out of one of the pockets of his ugly purple gi.

"Take it Vegeta. I had a feeling that you'd end up like this and I was serious when I said that I didn't think Bulma would appreciate you coming back looking like a truck ran over you."

Grunting in acknowledgement, I hastily grab the proffered senzu bean and push it into my mouth. Ignoring the bitter taste and hard texture, I chew it quickly and swallow it, feeling my broken bones and lacerations heal as soon as the medicinal properties of the bean absorb into my blood stream. Letting out a sigh of relief, I sit up straight and look forward into the darkening desert surrounding the two of us.

"What is it that you want to tell me Namek?"

He sits down next to me, his arms folded across his chest while the ridiculous white cape he favors wearing flaps lightly in the night breeze. I wait for him to answer, but when five or so minutes pass, I can feel my temper starting to rise. Part of me says that he's playing some sort of twisted game with me and I do not have the time or patience to play at foolish antics with a walking vegetable. Growling under my breath, I'm about to rise when his arm shoots out and grabs me, pushing me back into a sitting position.

"Calm yourself Vegeta. We have all night."

"Well excuse me if the idea of spending a night out here in the desert with you is rather revolting. I have better things that I can be doing with my time."

"I've seen what you do with your time Vegeta and believe me when I tell you this, you don't have better things to be doing."

There he is again, making judgments about me. Doesn't he realize that I don't want to be here? That I'm only sitting here because he has forced my hand? Crossing my arms in irritation, I level him a nasty look before looking straight ahead again.

"Stop being so centered on yourself."

"What?"

"You heard me. I said, stop being such a selfish bastard. You have responsibilities now and you can't shirk them just because you don't want to deal with them."

Growling, it's taking all of my self-control not to lash out and level a punch to his smooth talking mouth. Again I catch myself thinking, what the hell does he know about me and my situation?

"I know more then you think Vegeta."

"What, because you have nothing better to do then creep after me while I train and listen to my stray thoughts? Or is it that other Namek brat? He's so bored up on the Lookout that he has to listen in on the misery of other people?"

I can tell he's irritated with me and my assumptions because he looks towards me and flashes his fangs in a nasty grimace.

"Just listen to yourself Vegeta. You sound like an ass."

"Well, I've been told that I am one, so you calling me that doesn't hurt my feelings in the least."

He rolls his eyes at my sarcastic comment before clearing his throat to continue on in whatever vein he was speaking in before.

"Look Vegeta, it wasn't my intention to spy on your thoughts. And whether you actually believe this or not, Dende has more important things to be doing with his time then figuring out every little soap opera that happens to be going on in the lives of human beings and Saiya-jins."

"Then why have you been following me? Why did you confront me tonight to force me to listen to whatever shitty speech you have planned? There has to be a reason Namek."

He grunts in acknowledgment. Relaxing where I am sitting, I wait for him to continue though I would rather not be sitting here at the moment. Listening to the prattle of a self-righteous Namek-jin does not top my list of enjoyable pastimes, especially one as insufferable as Piccolo.

"Because if you continue on like this, you're going to cause damage not only to yourself, but the people you love as well."

That was not what I was expecting, especially not from him. Leveling a look at him, I spit out the first thing that comes to my mind.

"What makes you think that I love anybody on this shit hole? What makes you think that I would lower myself to such a point as admitting to that ridiculous, over indulged fantasy of an emotional state? Listen to yourself! You sound like…" I was about to say Bulma, but deciding against bringing her into the conversation, I shut my mouth and wait for his answer.

"Hmm, if you don't think you can love, then I truly feel sorry for you Vegeta. I used to be like you, full of hate and anger. And then, somehow I ended up taking on the responsibility of training a four year old half Saiya-jin brat, the son of my sworn mortal enemy. Somehow, the idea of training him to use as an exploitable weapon changed and I found myself caring about the boy to the point where I could admit that he meant something to me. It changed my life from being one centered on myself and my own selfish pursuits to one centered on something worthwhile to look after. And after seeing you out here, trying to figure out someway to reconnect with that insufferable human you've taken as a mate, I know you're only deluding yourself when you say that you don't love anybody here."

Grimacing, I can feel shame starting to rise inside my gullet. He is…he is correct in his assumption. Slumping my shoulders slightly, I ask him something.

"How can I…what can…how can I help her? She doesn't want me."

"Stop running away from your fears of inadequacy and start acting like the man you say you are. Instead of letting your own misery control your life, take action and stop relying on Bulma to help you. She's the one that needs the help."

"Don't you think I know that Namek? Don't you think I've tried? She's…she's terrified of me and she does not trust me."

"Look Vegeta, I don't have all the answers. I'm doing this because even though we have our differences and we both do not particularly like one another, there are others who are concerned about you and about Bulma."

I know at that moment he means Gohan, and I wonder how much the son of my sworn enemy knows about the happenings around the place where I live. How much he knows of Bulma's misery and that of my own. And also the confusion and unhappiness of my own son.

"Just…just start showing an interest in your child. Show Bulma that even though you still have your pride, you have a vested interest in your family. And maybe, start acting like the responsible party for once instead of selfishly relying on everyone else to make decisions and take care of things. I don't know if that is the answer, but I have a feeling if you finally give yourself something to do that has meaning, maybe you'll get over whatever has come over you since the death of Goku. And maybe, you'll help that harpy of yours recover from her loss."

Nodding my head in agreement, I watch as he stands up and brushes off his pants. Without saying so much as a good-bye, he powers up and then blasts off back towards the Lookout, leaving me alone once again.

Scrubbing my hands through my hair, I think about the things he has just said to me. All of them war against the pride within my heart but they do make sense. If I want Bulma to recover, then I too must get over my own personal demons. And to do so, I have to have some sort of purpose besides morning the loss of my rival and the loss of my prior life. I have neglected my son for too long and I'm coming to realize that his fear of me bothers me. I have no idea how I'm going to pull any of this off, but if I want my mate to stop suffering as I have suffered my entire life, then…then I will swallow my pride and finally take responsibility for the purpose I have here on Earth: that of my family.

_Vegeta has come to a crossroads. But will it be enough to reach out to his son and to Bulma? Will it help him to recover from the horror of his past life and also heal the wounds Bulma is dealing with after the death of their child? Find out in the next chapter! And please read and review!_


	8. Chapter 7

_Hello again! Thank you so much to everybody who is reading and reviewing this story. 89 reviews already and I haven't even written eight chapters yet! That's over ten reviews per chapter! So special thanks to __jdeppgirl4, __Bulma and Vegeta fan, __YARI, __Pearl3, __Musette Fujiwara, __MystiKoorime__, butterflyV, __Nocturnalwitch, __lucebelle21, __BloodyIris16, __Eterna Dragon, __quinn, __bookwormatcams, __MoshiMoshiQueen, __Diinya-chan__, and __kili27__! I'll keep plugging away at it and I'll try to update more frequently, although I'm not guaranteeing anything. So here it is: chapter seven._

_Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters. Those are property of Toriyama Akira._

_Chapter 7_

Vegeta

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP….

Cracking my eyelids open, it's all I can do not to blast the fucking alarm clock to pieces, but such behavior on my part would be completely meaningless. Especially since I was the one to set the stupid contraption to wake me up at five o'clock in the morning. Rolling over onto my stomach, I reach out with my arm and turn the device off before it wakes everyone else up in the household. The last thing I need is to have someone come and start banging on the bedroom door for me to shut the annoying thing off. Yawning slightly, I close my eyes for a few moments and pull the pillow underneath my head closer to my cheek. I'm still exhausted from last night's confrontation with Piccolo, but although it frustrates me to think that I was made to listen to the convictions of a Namek-jin, his words to me made sense. There is no point in denying such a truth, even if such a denial would make me feel like less of a fool and more like the Saiya-jin Prince I claim to be.

Rolling over onto my back, the conversation I had with him circulates through my head. After he left, I tried to piece everything together, especially how to turn around the depression I've been suffering from and that of my mate's. Before this moment in my life, I have never sought to cure my own emotional deficiencies and certainly not the deficiencies of someone else. However, it was made very clear to me that if I don't take some measure of responsibility and at least try to work out some sort of solution, I'm going to continue in this horrid rut until I once again find myself losing everything that I have gained, whether I wanted those gains or not. Knowing myself, I cannot afford to continue losing, because eventually, I'll lose myself to the despair that has been a constant companion in my life since I was a small boy. And then they would win: the demons of my past and present life.

I spent half the early morning hours out in that desert, trying to think of someway to reconnect with the family I never wanted but somehow ended up gaining once I became a permanent addition to the planet I once sought to destroy. The only thing that I could truly come up with was that I needed to get back into some sort of routine and that I would have to put my differences to the side and start to act more interested in the day to day caring of my son. Though I have been avoiding Capsule Corporation since Bulma returned from the hospital, I know that he is not receiving the coddling that he is used to getting. Though it burns me how mushy Bulma has been treating him, I know that the lack of attention from his mother must be having an adverse affect on him. And I need to come to some sort of understanding with him before it is too late, before he feels the loneliness of rejection settling into his heart. Although I will probably never be the type of father who indulges in sentimentalism, I also realized last night that I do not want my son to feel for me what I feel for my father. I know I told Bulma that I never cared what my father thought of me, but that was not the truth. I wanted his respect and I'm sure that my own son, though he is still very young, is feeling the same way.

Pushing the covers off of my body, I sit up and stretch my arms out above my head, trying to get rid of a kink that has made itself known in my neck. It is still somewhat dark out, although I can see the sky lightening in the east where the sun will inevitably make its appearance. Standing up, I stumble towards the closet and pull out clean undergarments and my training gear: my running shoes, a tank top and a pair of nylon running shorts. I think I only probably slept about two hours, but I've gone with less sleep over a longer extension of time in the past. Still, I've become used to my laziness and complacency. Getting up to force my body into training after only getting a few hours of sleep isn't something that I've done since before Kakarrot died. Swallowing another yawn, I yank on my clothes and then make my way out of the bedroom I've recently taken occupancy in.

Walking into the hallway, I close the door behind me and then slip next door to the room I had been sharing with Bulma before…before she lost our child. Perhaps it is strange that I have moved back into my old domain. However, the fact remains; I will not subject myself to staying where I am not wanted and Bulma has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me, or the rest of her family for that matter. Still, I am drawn to her as I have never been drawn to another person before in my lifetime. Again, I find the words of the Namek-jin floating across my consciousness. That I, the great Prince Vegeta, have fallen prey to that ridiculous emotional sentiment known as…love. I know that he is correct in his assumption, but the thought alone of having such a weakness within me…it terrifies me. But it explains a great many things to me that I have never understood, first and foremost why I chose to stay here of my own free will with a woman who at times infuriates me beyond anything I have ever known. Why I stayed to raise a child I never wanted and why I sacrificed my own greatness to live a life that I would have at one time considered mediocre at best.

Walking towards the bed, I notice that she's huddled in the middle with the blanket wrapped protectively around her like a cocoon. She looks so small and breakable lying alone in the large bed we were sharing. Creeping up to her, I can feel a lump starting to rise in my throat. In many ways, seeing her like this reminds me of half-forgotten memories of my suffering underneath Freeza when I was very young, before I became the brute that part of me wishes I still was.

Her face is still tearstained as it has been every morning since she came back. Leaning over the bed, I push some of her hair back away from her face just to look at her. There is so much damage between the two of us that I wonder if it will ever be repaired, if she will ever trust me again. This newfound realization about my own evolving and growing feelings is not making this morning any easier. Again, I wish for the simplicity that I once had in my life before I started allowing myself to experience more then anger, hate, and my pride. Though I will probably never bear my blackened soul to her, I hope that the experiment I'm about to undertake will clear up some of the decay that has started to rot between the two of us, driving apart a relationship that was never good to begin with. But for one such as myself, to have never had anything of the like before I met and mated with Bulma, I _need_ her to come back to the way she was.

Closing in the gap between our faces, I hesitate before planting what she would call a 'kiss' on her forehead. I know that I have never been clear to her about my thoughts of her and the importance she has in my life. Until recently, even I did not really know or understand, except to acknowledge that she is what has kept me sane since the death of Kakarrot. Knowing what I really feel though, would she even believe it, especially after how things have been between us? And another question also looms heavy in my thoughts: would I even tell her such a ridiculous sentiment? I don't think that I can ever lower my pride to such an extent to tell her something both dangerous and weak. Yet somehow, I must prove to her that she is important to me and that I do care what happens to her if I am to help her recover from the torture she is inflicting upon herself. Straightening up, I pull part of the blanket up over her shoulders and then take my leave from our bedroom. Shutting the door behind me, I quietly step over to my son's room and open the door.

There is a nightlight on in the corner of his room. Crossing my arms slightly, I can already start to feel irritation over how overprotected my son is. How will he ever grow up to face his fears if he's given a safety net to protect him from something as ridiculous as a fear of darkness? It frustrates me, yet I am beginning to realize that part of this frustration I have with Bulma and her family's rearing methods are because they are foreign to me. Yet, when it all comes down to it, my own childhood experiences are so far removed from what my son has to contend with, I feel as though I cannot relate to him just as he cannot relate to me. Walking into the room, I find myself compelled to stand near his bed, just as I had done with his mother. Looking at his sleeping figure curled underneath a blanket, holding onto one of those stupid stuffed toys he has in abundance, I lean over and peer into his innocent looking face.

We are so different from one another yet at the same time, I can see so much of myself in him that I wonder how my life would have been different had not my planet and people been destroyed. It is a question that has haunted me ever since I discovered I was to be a father for the first time. How could I create something when I was so damaged? At the time, I pushed those thoughts to the side. I couldn't afford to think like that, especially when I was striving to finally become a Super Saiya-jin, to prove once again that I was the chosen Prince, the inheritor of my people's legacy and legend instead of some trash third class baka. However, since the discovery that I was to add to the progeny I had already created with Bulma, and since that child's unfortunate death, I have once again found myself asking how things could have been had I been left my ultimate inheritance. And should I find some answer to those thoughts, will it be enough to bridge the distrust and animosity between myself and my son, the only inheritance that I truly have?

I can feel my mind racing off to explore these thoughts but I know that now is not the time to be having a philosophical conversation in my head, not in my son's bedroom at any rate. Folding my arms, I turn to leave when I hear the rustling of bedding behind me. Turning around, I stare into the blurry blue eyes of my son as he lets out a tremendous yawn.

"Papa, watcha doin'?" he asks me sleepily, pushing himself up and sticking his thumb into his mouth.

I don't really know what to say to him. I don't even know why I'm in his room except that perhaps it has something to do with the awareness that I can't abandon him any longer, that I have to be responsible for him beyond protecting him from unnatural death. Instead of verbally answering him, I just shrug my shoulders and turn to leave. He apparently has different ideas though.

"Is Momma gonna play with me today?"

Clearing my throat, I turn back towards him, watching as he looks at me uneasily, his fear of me at the moment being overrun with the need to understand why his mother is avoiding him.

"Get dressed."

He glances at me, his thumb dropping out of his mouth, a thin line of saliva dribbling over his chin. Slowly, he pushes his covers back and then he just sits in the middle of the bed, both looking curious and nervous at the same time.

"Why?"

Rolling my eyes heavenward, I think to myself that I don't have time to deal with the inane questions proffered by a four-year-old. However, I realize that this impatience of mine has partially led to the void that separates me from Trunks. And if I am to follow Piccolo's advice, no matter how much it galls me to take his words to heart, I have to alter my own conscious behavior. How to do it though, without pretending, will be the difficult part. Even now, I am not sure that I am up to the impossible task that looms before me. I find myself wondering how it was that Kakarrot had it so easy with his family, but I quickly try to change my direction of thought. I truly must have had some revelation last night to be comparing myself to him.

I want to just say to him "Does it matter? Do what you are told," but I know that if I truly want to make a difference to him and bridge the barrier between us, then I cannot speak to him like that. I can tell that he is waiting for me to say something, so I utter the first thing that comes to mind.

"We are going to the park."

Instantly, his eyes perk up and his demeanor changes from one of cowering insecurity to that of a child who has been given the best gift in the world. To say that such a reaction surprises me is an understatement. However, I also realize that my son is not as jaded as I was at his age and he still retains a childish innocence about things that I have never had in my entire life. Again, the differences between us and how things might have been different had I not been sold into slavery reveal themselves to my mind's eye.

Shaking my head, I watch as he quickly jumps out of his bed and runs over to one of his closets barefooted. He throws the door open and then just stands looking at all the clothing choices he has before him.

"Brat, what's the problem?" I ask, my voice level.

"Momma helps me."

Fuck. This is not what I had in mind when I came up with this ridiculous plan to take him with me to the park for a run.

"Well, can't you just pick something out and put it on? We don't have all day."

He shakes his head slowly and then he looks as though he is about to cry. I can already feel my frustration rising slowly but surely. Walking over to him, I cross my arms and peer into the closet over flowing with clothing my son certainly doesn't have a need for.

Grabbing the first short sleeved shirt and pair of shorts I find, I throw them at him and then step away.

"Papa?"

"What now?"

"I need undies."

Undies? What the hell are undies? Letting out a snort of breath to relieve the building tension and irritation in my body, I ask him what he means.

"Umm, stuff I wear under my shorts."

Running a hand through my hair, it clicks in my brain what he's talking about, although I have never in my life heard anyone refer to undergarments as 'undies.' It's probably some ridiculous word his mother made up and since I have never before helped my son to get dressed, I have never heard it before. Walking over to his dresser, I open the top drawer and am relieved to find an ample pile of them. Grabbing a pair along with a pair of socks, I throw them to where Trunks is now seated on the floor, playing in some ridiculous fashion with the clothes I took out for him.

"Get dressed." I tell him and then stalk over to the door, watching to see what he will do.

Immediately, he carefully puts the shirt in his hands down. Watching me anxiously, he starts to pull off his sleeping clothes so slowly that I think a snail would be faster. Still, he hasn't asked me to help and even if he did, I wouldn't help him seeing as putting on clothes at his age should not be a problem. Again, he picks up the shirt he was holding a moment earlier and pushes it over his head. I grimace slightly when I see that his head is moving towards the vicinity of his right armhole. Without thinking, I step over and right it so that his purple haired head pops quickly through the correct hole. Backing away and feeling foolish for reneging on my plan to not help, I try to convince myself it was only because had I not intervened, it would have taken twice as long for him to put his damned clothes on.

After his shirt is on, his old pair of undergarments quickly joins the pile of his discarded sleepwear. He sits down again and I watch with a mixture of amusement and irritation as he pushes his feet through the holes provided and then stands, pulling his clean undergarments all the way up to cover his ass and his private area. It's absurd how idiotically he puts his clothing on. No wonder the woman helps him all the time. Then again, perhaps that could actually be part of the problem. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I step over and grab his shorts before he has a chance to repeat the performance I had just witnessed.

"Papa!" Trunks wails as he unsuccessfully tries to take back his shorts.

"Listen up. You are not doing this in an efficient manner. Whoever taught you was an idiot."

I suddenly want to blast myself when I see tears threatening to spill out of my son's eyes. His tendency to be overly emotional is another problem I blame on Bulma, but it has also occurred to me that his human blood along with his age and general inexperience could also play a large role in my son's behavior. That is one thing I tend to remedy, for my sanity more than anything else. Already, I'm on edge and I wish he had never woken up when I came in to check on him. I know that this task I have to undertake is not going to be easy, but this is ridiculous. Gritting my teeth, I move in closer and dangle the garment in front of my quailing brat's face.

"Give em' back Papa!"

"Not until I tell you the proper way to put on a pair of pants."

He stares at me and then sniffles slightly. Wiping his nose disgustingly on his arm he soon crosses them in a manner similar to my usual stance and then steps back slightly. Handing him his shorts, I grab his arm when he tries to sit his ass on the ground once again, effectively preventing from wasting even more time. Letting go I start explaining what he needs to do, feeling extremely foolish for training my brat in the art of putting on clothes the correct way.

"Don't sit down and put your feet in the holes and then stand up. Hold them in front of you and put one leg in at a time. Then pull them up."

He looks at me dubiously before he attempts to follow my instructions. It is apparent to me that the task is not going to work. Almost as soon as he tries to put one foot in the hole of his shorts, he trips and lands on his face. Growling, I watch as he rights himself and then stands up again. Thankfully, he isn't crying. Instead, he looks determined to accomplish the simple task I have set before him.

After about three tries and many more minutes later then what would have taken had I let him put them on the way he normally does, the task is accomplished. Frustrated at my own sense of pride and dismay at my son's inability to put his clothes on, causing even more wasted time then I normally would have allowed for, I see a pair of running shoes on a rack in the closet. Grabbing the pair, I walk back over to Trunks and bodily pick him up, sitting him on the edge of the bed. Without saying a word and trying to hold back my disgust for doing such a…such a womanly task, I loosen up his shoelaces and push them onto his small feet. Tying them tightly, I straighten up and head for the door to his room once again. Once more, I try to convince myself that had I not helped him with his shoes, it would have been lunchtime before we would have made it outside of the house. Stepping into the hallway, I start walking quickly down the stairs, feeling the tension inside me start to seep away as my body finally is involved in some sort of physical activity.

Walking past the living room, I turn and look at the clock. It's already 6:00 am and the only thing I've accomplished so far is waking my son up and helping him to get dressed. Disgruntled over this fact, I turn my head over my shoulder and see him practically running behind trying to keep up with me. Turning around a corner, I walk into the kitchen and find myself face to face with the nit-whit.

"Oh Vegeta! How lovely that you're up so bright and early! And is that Trunks with you?"

Again, her knack for stating the obvious amazes me. Stupid bitch. Baring my teeth at her, trying to forget her helpfulness both during and since Bulma had her miscarriage, I tell her to pull something out that Trunks and I can eat quickly. I already know that my son, if given the chance, will eat his breakfast extremely slowly and messily. And I don't have time for that.

"Sure Vegeta. I have sticky buns almost ready to come out of the oven. You might have to wait for them to cool a bit, but you can eat them on the run if you don't mind having sticky fingers!"

Almost immediately to my relief, the oven timer beeps and the idiotic female pulls a pan out of it, containing what must be those 'sticky buns' she was talking about. As soon as she puts the pan on countertop, I grab a few, making sure to cool one off for my son using my ki. Handing him the breakfast concoction, I don't let him say goodbye to his grandmother as I'm out the door before he has a chance to.

Almost as soon as we are out the door, I stuff one of the rolls into my mouth, chew it and swallow it. Thankfully, Trunks follows my example. Once my mouth is empty, I explain what we are going to be doing.

"We are going to run to the park. This is a training exercise. I will make sure that nothing befalls you, but it is your duty to try and keep up with me as best you can. Once there, you will have twenty minutes to entertain yourself as best you can before we head back to this place. Understood?"

He nods his head uncertainly and that's all I need before I take off. Jogging down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk, I check back to observe the progress of my progeny. He's trying his hardest to keep up with me, but our sizes are so different that even running at a slower pace, he's having trouble keeping up with me. Slowing down even more, I watch as he catches up with me. Soon, he is running level with me.

Watching him try his hardest to live up to my standards, I can feel guilt starting to creep into my heart about my earlier treatment of him. Certainly, it is exasperating and irritating to me that my son's Saiya-jin abilities and traits seem to be so far below where mine were at his age. But again, why would I want him to be like me at that age? I hated my life then as I have most of my entire life. Perhaps…perhaps this softness to him is a blessing, no matter how much I dislike it. And in reality, how difficult would it be for me to…to perhaps, loosen up some of harshness and expectations until he is a bit older? Certainly this morning proved, if nothing besides how annoying it has been up until this point, that I can be more patient then even I would have thought possible. It doesn't mean that I have to like it or change who I am internally. Still, this process to repair the wounds between myself and Trunks and myself and Bulma are going to take much more patience and tolerance then I have ever had in my entire life.

Sighing under my breath, I round the corner and check over to Trunks who is still determined to keep up with me. Turning back to the path in front of me, I pick up the pace slightly and pray that there won't be a crowd when we get to the park within the next ten minutes.

Bulma

My head hurts and so do my eyes. Blinking slightly, I sit up slowly and look at the clock, surprised to see that it isn't even eight in the morning yet. Laying my head back down on my pillow, I try to fall back asleep, but images of my dead baby from the strange dream I had had keep flashing in front of me, mocking me. Snapping my eyes open, I sit up and then lean my back against the headboard.

Toma.

I can see him as clearly as if he were standing right in front of me. My son who would never be. I know that in all probability, the dream I had of him was most likely drug induced and had he actually been allowed to live, he might not have turned out that way. But part of the dream rings in my heart as though it really was my dead child talking to me, showing me a sequence of events that might have occurred had he lived. Now that he's dead, does that mean the happiness in that dream will never come to pass?

My depression wells up from my core, convincing me that I'm not meant to have a happy life. Haven't the events from my past showed me that already? Just looking at my relationship history is enough to make the horrible thoughts in my head seem validated, even if I know that I'm not thinking clearly. Yamcha and then…Vegeta. Vainly, I try to stop this circular thinking of mine, even if for once, it's not related to Toma. Still, thoughts of last night's confrontation keep sticking at me like annoying insects, buzzing away when I try to swipe at them only to land back where they were in the beginning.

Frustrated, I push my covers away from me and then stand unsteadily, weaving towards the bathroom. Pushing the door open, I throw open the shower door and turn the water on, letting it heat up as I quickly pull off my clothes, exposing my naked body to the bare walls that surround it.

Stepping in front of the mirror, I look at my image. I'm tired and it shows. There are bags under my eyes and there are wrinkles of anxiety that weren't there before I had become pregnant again. My breasts are slightly fuller then they had been, but they have started to go back to normal. I've lost weight and what signs that had pointed towards my previous condition are completely gone except for a few faint lines marking where my abdomen had swollen. After all, I had been four months pregnant when I had lost my baby and I had already begun to show.

Shaking my head, I turn on the tap and splash my face with cold water, trying to distract myself before stepping into the shower. Drying it off, I throw the towel on the floor and then step into the now steaming water of my shower.

It doesn't take me long to wash myself. I've become quick and efficient as a way to combat the awful thoughts and feelings that plague me when I'm alone. In a way, it's almost funny how even though I don't want to keep dwelling on Toma's death, I have been spending the majority of my time by myself. Ironic, perhaps. Shutting off the water, I grab a towel and dry myself off, throwing on the bathrobe hanging up on the hooks provided behind the door to the bathroom. Wrapping my hair into my wet towel, I leave the bathroom without picking up after myself. I've reverted back to some of my old habits of cleanliness. Without Vegeta around to complain, who really cares? I just don't have the energy or motivation to behave in patterns that were a struggle for me ever since I found myself first having sex with Vegeta and then later sharing a room with him.

Crawling back into my bed, I yawn and then rub my temples. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. I realize that I could use a good cup of coffee, but I ignore that idea as well. Instead, I think back to the progress I made last night on the housewares robotics that have been in need of updating for the last couple of months. I was up until 3:30 this morning, trying to stop thinking about my dead baby and the fight I had had with Vegeta. This has become my new pattern. I sleep during the day when I'm too exhausted to stay up and then stay awake half the night, taking naps in between. For some reason, however, this morning is different. I don't want to be up, but I'm too afraid to fall back asleep. Once again, I find myself on my feet, this time heading towards the door that leads to the rest of the house and to the family I have been avoiding as a way of coping with the enormous amount of guilt and sadness I have been suffering with.

Opening the door, I almost run into the shape of the last person that I want to see at the moment: Vegeta. Taking a step back, I look on as he watches me warily before he opens the door to Trunks's room and then enters. Curious, I look at him just as he looks at me without saying a word. That's when I notice the reason for his sudden interest in the bedroom of the son he has been ignoring for all intents and purposes.

Trunks is in his arms, his head resting on Vegeta's shoulders and his arms wrapped around his father's neck. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed what was standing right in front of me. Vegeta…Vegeta would never act like this unless he had…unless he had hurt Trunks somehow. Out of nowhere, a rage starts to build inside of me. I already lost one baby and I'm not going to lose another, no matter if Vegeta didn't mean to do anything in the first place. Still, even that seems uncharacteristic. The Vegeta I know is more then capable of hurting people without remorse. Or at least, the Vegeta from the past was. I'm not so sure about Vegeta now, but I'm not really thinking logically. I like this feeling of anger because it helps me to forget my misery.

Not saying anything to me, he continues on his journey into Trunks's room. Following him, I watch as he lays him down on the bed and then straightens up, turning around to almost come face to face with me.

"What do you think you are doing?" I ask waspishly.

He looks uncomfortable, shifting his gaze away from my face. Stepping to the side of me, he walks around my body, heading once again towards the door. Not thinking, I grab his arm, intent on having him answer me.

Stopping suddenly, he yanks his arm out of my grasp and cocks his head in my direction.

"If you wish to get in a screaming match with me, I suggest we take it to a different place. I don't want to have to deal with your shrieking and the brat's crying at the same time."

Offended and outraged, I stare at his retreating back as he crosses the hall and enters into my bedroom. I can feel my temper flaring to life, anger coursing through my veins in almost equal to the deep feelings of bitterness and hopelessness I have been feeling as of late. Taking a step forward, I march smartly over to where he is standing patiently, as if scorning me for being so…so emotional. Walking past him, I can hear the door whoosh shut as Vegeta presses the button that controls it and sets the locking mechanism so no one can interrupt our second fight in less then twenty four hours.

"Well Woman, are you going to yell at me or stare at me with your mouth open? Any wider and you could catch flies in it."

Clenching my jaw shut, I let the first words that spill off my tongue come out without really thinking about what I'm saying to him.

"What did you do to Trunks Vegeta? You are such a…such an animal, to hurt a small boy like that! How could you? Do you want him to end up like you, bitter and angry all the time?"

Letting it all out, I watch his face flood with any number of emotions, the last being obvious disappointment and hurt before his usual sneering mask is back on.

"You honestly think that I would hurt my own child like that? Has it not occurred to you Woman, that had that been the case, he would have been severely injured many times over in his already short life?"

With that said Vegeta steps in closer to me, closing in the gap of space between the two of us. Grabbing my arm gently, he pulls me in even closer so that our faces are inches apart, his dark eyes looking directly into mine.

"If I hadn't become so fucking pathetic, perhaps Trunks would be even at this moment dealing with the brutality that a Saiya-jin father gives to his offspring. Yes Bulma, I am a monster, but I am not so horrid that I would deliberately hurt and mutilate my own child. You of all people should realize that by now."

Looking into his eyes, I know that he speaks the truth. For once, he is allowing me to see the naked hurt and distress in his eyes that I would think so lowly of someone who I have been married to for years and have had a child with. Trying to hold back a sob, I feel relief when he lets go of me and steps back, letting in some breathing room between our bodies.

"I took him on a run to the park with me. He got tired out so I…so I carried him home the rest of the way and he fell asleep. That is all that happened."

"You…you took him to the park?"

"Yes. Do not think that I did it for my own amusement. I…I just have come to some realizations about things and…Bah, forget it."

With that said, I sit down on the bed and watch Vegeta has he strides quickly out of my room, intent on avoiding further deliberation, of which I am glad.

I don't understand. What realizations did he make and why would he do such a un-Vegeta like thing as take Trunks to the park, albeit very early in the morning? Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I wonder if part of what happened this morning has anything to do with my avoidance of our family and the things I accused Vegeta of last night. But when has he ever listened to me about anything? Still, I feel horrible for accusing him of abusing our son when I have never seen him do such a thing in the past. I wish…I wish I understood him better. I wish I understood his own fears and his own uncertainties, why he acts the way he does. And maybe, Vegeta is also wishing the same thing about me. Why I've taken to myself and why I'm having such a difficult time dealing with the grief of losing my baby. But whom am I kidding? To find such things out would require opening up the wounds of the past and present and I don't think Vegeta will ever tell me about his past life, except for the few smidgens of information I have gathered about him over the years. And the grief in my own heart is still too fresh to talk about. So we will each live in silence, never telling the other what we most need to. Never sharing our secrets, building up the lack of trust and the gulf that has been pushing us apart for the last few years.

A few months ago, no, a few years ago, I would have been up to the challenge of breaking down Vegeta's walls. I realized when I first became pregnant with Toma that it would have to be up to Vegeta to bridge the gap between us. Now for the first time, I have lost hope that that will ever happen. Perhaps it's my sadness talking. Or perhaps the voice of reason has finally gotten through to me. Whatever it is, it just makes me that much more miserable and alone. I am…I have become pathetic.

_Vegeta has taken the first steps to repairing the damage to his family, to becoming a vital part instead of a bystander. But Bulma seems to be moving in the opposite direction. Will Vegeta stay with the task at hand and will it be enough to finally pull Bulma out of her grief? Find out in the next chapter. And please leave a review!_

_Also, sorry about the long delay. I've been working on this chapter for a few weeks. It just takes me a long time to write chapters, and with my job, I've been really busy. I hope you understand._


	9. Chapter 8

_Okay, I have not fallen off the face of the planet. Sorry once again for the long delay. I'm not making any promises about updating anymore because I can't seem to live up to them and I hope I haven't made any of you angry. Life has been very, very busy for me. But on a positive note, this story is winding its way down to a conclusion._

_Thanks so much to __Bulma and Vegeta fan__, Yari, __jdeppgirl4__, Pearl3__, lucebelle21, __Musette Fujiwara__, Nocturnalwitch__, MoshiMoshiQueen__, Momoberry, Peachy, __Cappuccino Penguin, __WhiteLighter Princess Bulma, __MystiKoorime__, Eterna Dragon__, and __amja__. Thanks especially to Eterna Dragon for sending me a friendly reminder to get back on track and update. This one is for you. But really, this chapter is for everyone who are still supporting and enjoying this story, even though I've been bad at updating._

_Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters. They all belong to Toriyama Akira_

_Chapter 8_

Vegeta

My temper is frayed beyond recognition and my resolution to see this through to the end is wearing extremely thin. However, when have goals worth reaching ever been easy to attain? I've spent my entire life chasing after dreams of revenge, fantasies of conquests yet to be claimed, and a myriad of other ideals that are what have made me into the man that I am. No matter that I am rapidly losing confidence in my ability to pull this situation between myself and my family back to the pseudo-normalcy of what we once had before everything started to fall apart after Kakarrot decided to frolic in the after-life, I will not give up on this goal. I will not add it to a growing pile of un-fulfilled wishes that makes up the majority of my soul.

Sitting underneath a tree in the park that is near to the place where I live, I watch as my son and mini-Kakarrot play some sort of game. It reminds me of a predator tracking after prey in order to make it into a quick meal. At the current moment, Trunks is slyly slipping around playground equipment, trying to slowly sneak up on Kakarrot's youngest spawn, who is hiding sloppily behind a nearby tree. I've seen this interaction between the two of them countless times and it always ends in with the same result. Kakarrot's brat treats their playing as a game, where my son seems to see it in a different light. As a result, offspring number two of my rival always leaves himself wide open for an attack and never seems to see it coming until it's too late. Usually, this result is fine for the first few rounds, but after the third or fourth one, he becomes upset because he never seems to have an edge over Trunks and because Trunks relies on his Saiya-jin nature more than his human side when playing this sort of exercise and so he ends up inevitably hurting his younger counterpart. The last thing I need is to deal with two sniveling cubs. One is bad enough. Standing up, I start walking towards the park entrance; the signal that indicates playtime is over with. Swallowing down some of my pride, I try to not feel the embarrassment of having to watch over my son and his friend. Still, it is rather humiliating in its own way. Shaking my head, I wait impatiently for the two of them to catch up to where I'm standing.

The walk back to Capsule Corporation is uneventful. Both boys, although young, know better then to test my temper with stupid antics and so they are both quiet and obedient until we step onto the driveway that leads up to the corporate grounds. Once they set foot onto Capsule property, both children quickly run onto the grounds and disappear to a favorite haunt, leaving me blessedly alone. Slowly unclenching my hands, letting the stress of watching the two of them seep out of my body, I leisurely make my way indoors and head towards the one place where I can find solitude within the bounds of Capsule Corporation: my gravity simulator.

Opening up the door, I walk inside and then go over to a cabinet where there is spare training uniforms to be had. Pulling open the cabinet door, I yank one out and start to undress, taking off the human clothes I had worn to the park in order to blend in better with the rest of the bakas that bring their idiotic brats for play time. At one point, I had thought of the park as an ideal place to take Trunks to, away from the despondent atmosphere of Capsule Corporation. However, within the last few weeks, Kakarrot's brats have also started spending time here and now I have the added responsibility of watching over the youngest one as well, which makes it impossible to go to the blasted park when there are no other humans present. Fucking pain in the ass.

Irritated and feeling foolish at the same time for not only watching over my own son but his stupid friend as well, it doesn't take much for me to think of the irony of my current actions. I, the noble and proud Prince of the Saiya-jins, am a nursemaid and entertainment for a couple of brats. Pulling on my spandex training suit, I can feel the hint of a smile starting to creep onto my face. Honestly, it's ridiculous, these silly behaviors that I have started to participate in. But it has had some surprising results, even if my own temper and patience are constantly under threat of exploding. My son, though he still shows some hesitancy around me (as he should), has seemed to overcome his fear of me to a certain extent. I'm not sure if he entirely understands the reasoning behind my sudden change in behavior towards him, but at least he doesn't cry all the time anymore when I yell at him for doing something retarded or run away to hide somewhere when he sees me coming. He has also started to tolerate my no coddling attitude. Perhaps it's because I bribe him with trips to the damn park or because I allow him to spend time with the son of my rival. Whatever the reason, his depressed attitude that had come about since the loss of his younger sibling, has improved. And so has my own, to a certain extent. However…Bulma.

I can feel my face begin to twist into a grimace. I'm not here to dwell on her and her damn attitude but…but it is pissing me off to no end. Shaking my head to clear it of all thoughts unrelated to training and strengthening my own body, I walk over to the simulator and set the gravity to 100, a setting ideal for warming up before I move onto more intense gravity for the majority of my workout. I will not…I cannot…never mind. Growling, I start focusing my mind on my training exercises, letting the tension in my muscles seep out slowly as my breathing evens out and my muscles start acting on the rote memory of movements instilled in them since I was a small child.

For the first time since I woke up, I feel relaxed and in control. Minutes, and then hours pass in a blur as I slowly start to push my body, both my core and the muscles that surrounds it, until they can handle no more. Letting out a battle cry, I focus my ki in the palms of my hands and then let out a tremendous explosion of power, watching as it evaporates the few training bots that are left since I once again started using the gravity simulator on a regular basis. Panting, feeling the sweat drip down my face and back, clinging to my skin and seeping into the fabric of my training uniform, I decide that the time is right for me to quit. I'm dreadfully out of condition but I've started to change that fact and with that has come the realization how much I have let things from the past push me behind where I should be. Straightening upwards, I walk over to a cabinet and pull out a towel to wipe my face and hands with. Grabbing my clothes from earlier in the day, I walk over to the control panel and turn off the machine, leaving through the doorway and once again entering the fray that is Capsule Corporation. Rounding a corner as I head towards my room to take a shower, I almost fall over when two blurs run into my legs.

"Oomph! Aw, ouch!"

"Goten, your head hurts!"

Crossing my arms, I stare down at the two troublemakers sprawled in front of my feet; one rubbing his head while the other is sucking his thumb, trying not to cry.

"Brats."

They both suddenly look up at me. I don't think they realized in their haste that they had the misfortune of colliding with my legs instead of a wall. Stupid children. Slowly, both boys stand up and watch me with the expectation that they are in trouble, which they are.

"No running in the house. It's a simple rule. Obey it. Trunks…"

I'm not used to the idea of punishment that doesn't involve brute force and so I have hit a snag. In the few weeks since I have started to pay more attention to my son, I have not had to administer punishment, relying on his ditzy grandmother to do the job for me instead. I'm at a loss. Growling in an intimidating fashion, I latch my dark eyes onto his clear blue ones.

"If I catch you running around like a barbarian again, your backside will be raw."

Aiming a look at Goten, I scowl at him as an added effect. I cannot have either of the boys thinking that I am soft or indecisive. My pride has already suffered enough blows as it is and I will not add this to the growing list of behaviors I've engaged in ever since my conversation with Piccolo.

"The same can be said for you, mini-Kakarrot. Mind where you are going. No matter that you are not blood of my blood; you are still a Saiya-jin, not some weakling. Have I made myself clear?"

Instead of bursting into a tirade of tears and sniffling, both brats stand up and shake their heads, relief evident on both of their faces. Gah, to think that they should be relieved. Have I really become that much of a weakling? However, I would much rather have them a little afraid of me then terrified. Though I know that the monster of my past still dwells within the deep recesses of my mind, I would rather not have my son or his stupid friend think of me in that sort of light. Another testament to how this place…this planet, has changed me. Or maybe, the answer is simpler then that. Perhaps…perhaps the person of my past, the brute that I still sometimes wish I could call upon, was not who I really am. Maybe, these changes, these doubts, these…these manifestations of humanity growing within me, maybe _they_ are the real me. The person Bulma saw when she first started to pursue me years ago. The person that became lost in all of my own confusion over what I wanted and my desire to revenge myself upon Kakarrot for stealing away the glory that should have been mine. What a...a fool I have been. Smiling bitterly, I stare at the ceiling, lost in a swirl of thoughts that never seem to leave me alone along with the changes that have been slowly creeping through me over the years.

"Papa?"

Blinking slowly, I tilt my face towards the voice of my son, who is still standing awkwardly in front of me along with mini-Kakarrot.

"What?" I ask gruffly, trying to hide my embarrassment over spacing out like a moron in the middle of a hallway.

"Can me an' Goten go now? We're sorry, right Goten?"

I watch as the son of my rival shakes his head slowly in a positive gesture, unsure if such an admission will keep him out of the trouble that he really should be in for running bodily into me.

"Whatever."

Taking that as the okay to leave, both boys scamper around my body and then slowly proceed down the rest of the corridor to wherever it was they were going in the first place. Letting out a breath, I also start once again in the direction that leads towards my room and that of the shower I'm in desperate need of taking.

Rounding another corner, I start up a flight of stairs and within a few minutes, I'm in front of the door that opens into my room. Glancing to my left, I notice Bulma's door is closed as it usually is and I wonder if she's still asleep. Even though it has to be near lunch time, she has taken to sleeping odd hours at night, something that has begun to worry me, not to mention the few times that she shows herself around Trunks and myself. It is as though she is…she is asking for help but doesn't know how to receive it. A state of being that I am intimately acquainted with. It is all I can do not to open up the door to the room we had been sharing until this fucked up business with the loss of the child changed everything, stripping away all illusions the two of us had been feeding each other in regards to the state of the bond between us. However, my pride decides to assert itself, and instead, I open the door to my own room.

Stepping quickly inside, I can hear the door whoosh shut behind me as I walk over to the closet and pull out another set of clean training gear. I haven't given much thought to the rest of my day, but knowing that Kakarrot's brats are probably going to be spending the majority of their time here, I have the sudden desire to leave the confines of West City for the openness of the wilderness that lies beyond. More specifically, the crater that has ended up being my place of contemplation. The blood of my ancestors is beating through my veins and I need the time alone to get away from the stress of trying to revert the damage done between Trunks and myself as well as trying to get my woman out of her deepening depression. Besides, I haven't been back there since the night I was visited by a fucking Namek-jin and his insufferable ideas.

Thinking of these things, my mind wanders as I go through the automatic motions of readying myself for a shower. Really, it's almost laughable that I should be taking one anyway, knowing that I'll only have to take another one once I get back from my solitary travels. Still, there is a deeply ingrained part of my persona that demands cleanliness. I know it steams from the years working under Freeza, coming back from months of being out on purging missions before finally being able to wash away the stench of death and decay. If I had to survive without such benefits, I very well could do so. But given the choice, I have always opted for keeping my surrounding area and myself clean. Another example of how the past still has a way of haunting me, even well into my adulthood and in a place far removed from the hideousness that was Freeza's ship.

Stepping inside the shower, I let the water soak into my hair and slide down the contours of my muscles. The path that we take through the journey of life is never an easy one, something I have known since I was a boy. It has the power to change you one way or the other. But, just as the journey can change who we are, the power also resides in each of us to either make ourselves stronger from the trials we endure or weaker. It is always easier to blame others for our misfortunes, to blame them for the mistakes we have made and the horrible things we have done. Changing our destiny and owning up to the sins of the past, that is what is difficult.

_A few hours later…_

Landing on the rim of the balcony outside my room, I stand and survey my surroundings before I slide the door open and make my way back inside my room. Closing my eyes, I briefly sense out the ki in the household to determine who is here and who is not, if I still have to deal with Kakarrot's progeny reeking havoc within the place where I live. I can't sense either one of his brats and so I let out a sigh of relief. With them gone, especially the youngest one, the house will be calmer and my already frayed nerves won't snap. Stepping towards the inside entrance of my room, I make a quick decision to not take my second shower for the day in favor of finding something to eat. My earlier lunch had been more like a quick snack because the idea of taking meals with both of Kakarrot's children, my own son and the two imbeciles that are Trunks's grandparents is still something I would rather avoid if given the chance. Slipping quietly into the hallway, my legs carry me to the one place in the household where I can find an abundant supply of food to support my Saiya-jin metabolism.

In a matter of seconds, the kitchen looms in front of me. Walking through the entryway, I let out a grunt of irritation when I notice that my mother-in-law is standing next to the counter making up a tray of refreshments. Ignoring her as she waves hello to me, I open the refrigerator and grab what looks to be a huge assortment of leftovers from the lunch that I had purposely ignored.

"How was your trip?"

Leveling a glare at her that clearly states I don't feel like talking to her, I settle myself at the table and start opening and consuming the food within the containers, not bothering to heat them back up. A waste of time, in my opinion.

"Goku's boys left. Poor Trunks, he's all by himself again. I was going to take him out to the garden for a tea party."

I almost spew the contents of my mouth across the table. Take him out to the garden for a _tea party_? Glaring at her, I swallow my mouthful before giving the baka onna a piece of my mind.

"He's a Saiya-jin Prince for fuck's sake! I do not want him participating in sissified human customs like tea parties."

"I used to take Bulma out for tea in the garden. She always liked it. It made her happy. Poor little Trunks, sometimes he needs to be happy too."

Glaring at her, I wonder what she thinks that I have been doing with him the last few weeks, if not to make him into a fucking optimist, at least to make him act more like the boy he was before Bulma started ignoring him. If anything, I almost think she should take my mate out to the garden for one of her idiotic parties, if that's what made her happy in her youth. I certainly haven't been able to break her from her melancholy, even following the ideas of a certain Namek-jin. Breaking my eyes from hers, I settle back into eating my food, though it has lost most of its flavor.

"I tried to Vegeta. The only one who can help her is…I don't know."

Looking up again in surprise, I wonder where that comment came from. Swallowing some of my pride, I ask her as much even though I dislike talking to her. Smiling happily at me, she waves her hands in the air in a wild gesture to accent whatever the fuck decides to come out of her obscene mouth.

"Well, you said I should take her out there since you haven't been able to help. I'm just trying to make you feel better, that it's not your fault for the way she's behaving."

My token phrase slips past my lips before I settle back to eating the tasteless meal in front of me.

"Whatever."

Quickly finishing my hasty meal, finally having the sensation of being fully satiated, I stand up and leave the mess for her to clean up. Stopping in the doorway, I glance over to where she is still fixing up a tray of sweets.

"No tea parties. I won't allow it."

She just nods her head airily and I growl out in irritation. Moving away from her, I make a snap decision to go and find out what my son is up too, uncomfortable with the fact that he's by himself again. Even though he's still considered to be young by human standards, he's quite capable of causing more then a bit of trouble if left to his own devices. Sensing out his ki, I track him down and find him sprawled on his belly in the middle of the living room floor, listlessly playing with a bunch of stupid human toys.

As soon as I stop in the doorway to check on him, he senses my presence. Sitting up awkwardly, he sticks his thumb in his mouth and watches me with mournful eyes. Overlooking his babyish habit for the moment, I can tell that he's been crying, though he doesn't appear to be at the moment.

Not for the first time, I feel decidedly uncomfortable around my offspring. The Saiya-jin side of me feels disgust for his obvious weakness in showing his emotional states to all who should happen to walk past him. But there is a part of me that can empathize with him, can understand some of the juvenile feelings that he is having, even if I don't know what has caused him to break down and act like this. Staring at him, I watch as he pulls his thumb unceremoniously out of his mouth and wipes his saliva on the stained t-shirt he happens to be wearing.

"Papa, wanna play?"

Rolling my eyes, there is no way in hell that I'm going to play a stupid imaginary game with my brat. Besides, I wouldn't even know how to even if I decided to humor him. Growing up on Vegeta-sei, my early childhood had been devoted to learning how to fight, learning how to become a killing machine. Perhaps third class children that had been allowed to stay planet side had the luxury to indulge in games of fantasy and flights of fancy, but it certainly wasn't something a Prince would have been allowed to participate in. Shaking my head curtly, I can see that my answer disappoints him. However, he doesn't break down and start crying, of which I am extremely grateful.

Turning back around, I decide that he seems to be fine even though his obvious distress bothers me somewhat. Shrugging off my feeling of concern, I'm about to step back into the hallway, when he says something that causes me to blink in shock.

"Why does Mommy not love me anymore?"

Swallowing nervously, I'm not prepared to answer that question. Bulma, not love Trunks? I want to laugh at such a ridiculous statement. If anything, the Woman has over-indulged in the sentiment with her son, no matter how much I have disagreed with her treatment of him. However, for him to voice such a concern, especially to one such as myself, the ramifications are suddenly clear to me. Turning around, I face him once again.

"What do you mean?"

I can tell that he's trying to keep his tears in check, but it's a losing battle. I watch as they slide down his cheeks and nose, leaving salty trails on his face and wet streaks across the front of his shirt. Crossing my arms, trying to hide my discomfort with the situation at hand, I walk over to where he is struggling not to make a blubbering mess in front of me. Bending over, I pick him up and throw him over my shoulder, trying my best not to take notice of the wetness seeping into my uniform. Stepping over to the doors that lead to an outside patio, I open them up and blast up into the air, not really sure why I picked him up in the first place or where we are going.

Leaving the city, I can feel his small, warm body as it quivers against mine, and guilt that he should be suffering like this suffuses my conscience. Up until Bulma's miscarriage, I had ignored and belittled my offspring, unsure of how to act, afraid of developing an attachment towards him. For the first time, I wonder if he had ever come to Bulma asking if I didn't care for him. And what had she said to relieve him of his childish concerns? A conversation I had with her right before she lost our child suddenly pushes itself forward in my mind, helping to feed the remorse I feel for having abandoned my child for so long.

_"All he wants is approval, which means more then just spending a day where you don't insult him. Anyway, he doesn't understand half the things you tell him except that for some reason, you don't like him. And that's a big deal to a kid his age."_

"_Since when did liking someone have to do with anything? I've spent the great majority of my life being hated and despised and feeling sorry for myself over my lack of companionship never got me anywhere. If I could make it into adulthood without being __**liked**__ by anyone, surely my son can survive feeling disliked by his own father."_

But that had all been a lie. It was considered a weakness to want affection from elders, but I could remember a time when trying to prove to my father my worthiness as his son was the most important thing to me. How his apparent rejection of my efforts only fueled my desperation to be recognized by him. And in an instant, all of that was taken away from me when my planet was destroyed and my father was killed alongside it. I was told by Freeza how cowardly my father had been up until the very end, how he had sold me into slavery to save his own hide. And from that thirst to prove myself to a man whom I idolized, a creeping despair and then hatred moved into my heart. If anything, the desecration of my father's memory was the catalyst that turned me into an angry, blood thirsty, vengeful child whose only recourse to remove all vestiges of caring towards someone no longer worthy of my affections was to purge myself of all emotional attachments through the willful destruction of the lives of people who Freeza deemed undeserving of existence. The appearance of not being liked by my own father had deeply affected me in ways more profound then anything else in my life had. At least, until I had come to this fucking mud ball. Since that moment when I first laid my eyes upon Kakarrot, my whole world has been turned upside down.

Hearing Trunks sniffling in my ear, I tighten my grip on his body and try to figure out someway to, I don't know, find out what is going on inside his childish mind. Glancing downwards, my eyes focus on a wooded area near a lake. Deciding to land, I change directions, descending towards an open glen within the wooded copse. Without a word, my feet touch down and I set my son on the ground in front of what appears to be a large, mature oak tree.

Settling myself underneath the leafy canopy, Trunks wipes his eyes with his arm and then flops down in front of me, glancing around curiously.

"Where's this?"

Shrugging my shoulders, I let him know that I have no clue where we are. It just seemed like an adequate place to find out what is truly bothering my offspring. Clearing my throat, I decide to cut to the chase.

"Brat, what do you mean that your baka mother doesn't care for you?"

Blinking his clear blue eyes, he suddenly focuses his face towards his feet, which are pushing the leaves on the ground in front of him into small piles. I can feel my frustration starting to grow, but I try to remind myself that he's very young and perhaps he doesn't understand what I'm asking him. Pursing my lips, I try to think of a way to rephrase what I'm asking.

"She does love you."

He looks up at me and sniffles, shaking his head in a negative motion.

"Not no more. She doesn't tuck me in, or read to me, or kiss me, or play with me an' Goten. I make Mama cry."

After the last comment, once again my son is reduced to tears and it makes me feel nervous and guilty at the same time. He needs comfort, but that is something I can't really give him, not the way that he expects at any rate. Besides that, any assurances I give him, his four-year-old mind might not be able to comprehend them.

"Papa, how come I make her cry?"

Before I have time to react, my son is suddenly in my lap, his face pressed against my chest as he bawls all over the front of my training uniform. To have him completely disregard the unsaid rule of not touching my body without permission, I know that Trunks is probably beyond his breaking point, trying to understand why the mother he knew suddenly doesn't seem to exist anymore. Internally containing my concern, I try to calm him down by rubbing his back, even thought I feel like a complete idiot for doing so.

"Look brat, you don't make her cry. Your mother…your mother is going through something and it has nothing to do with you. She lost something and can't get it back and it's making her…sad."

Feeling completely inadequate for this task, I hope my stupid explanation makes sense to him. I can hear his sniffling starting to calm down and within a few minutes, he slides out of my lap and sits cross-legged in front of me, wiping his nose with his shirt.

"You mean like when I lost my blankey and couldn't find it?"

I don't know what the hell a blankey is, but if that's the comparison his mind can come up with, I nod my head in acceptance of his understanding of the situation. And with that, a sudden transformation suddenly seems to take hold of my son. In what seems to be a split second, his tear stained face breaks out into a brilliant smile.

"Papa, you an' me, we gotta help her find it. Then she'll be happy again."

Shaking my head slightly, I'm dumfounded by his reaction. If it could only be that simple. There is no bringing back the child from the dead, even if I wanted that to be possible. I had considered wishing it back with the dragon balls when Bulma first started to lose her luster for life. However, since it had died of natural causes, any wish I might have tried to make would have been a wasted one. Still, I'm not going to ruin my brat's sudden optimism with such a pessimistic truth. I'd rather have him act like his usual, annoying self then have him break down and cry all over me again.

"Sure brat, we'll find it."

With that said, he takes my words as the truth, accepting them without analyzing the hidden meaning behind them with his childish innocence. It is as if his previous discomfort and pain were no more then a fleeting memory, something that almost makes me envious of his ability to relegate his hurt to a place where he doesn't have to dwell on it. Standing up from underneath the tree, I make my way towards the lake I saw before I landed in the clearing, glancing behind me to make sure Trunks is following me. Stopping at the edge of the lake, I can see the gleam of anticipation in his large eyes.

"You can go in the water, but only up to your middle. If I catch you trying to go any deeper, we'll go home."

He nods his head and then pulls all of his clothes off, running naked into the water and splashing around like a moron. Rolling my eyes at his antics, I settle down on the grass and pull my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them as I watch my offspring frolic in the water.

This attitude of Bulma's…it has to stop. It has been over two months since the death of the child, yet she has only fallen deeper into despair, no matter that I have been putting in a visible effort to change things. Up until this point, except for the one time I had tried to talk to her, I have been giving her space, much like she gave me mine after Kakarrot died and I felt cheated once again of my destiny. Seeing her like this, seeing my son like this, it is finally putting into perspective what my morose attitude must have been doing the entire time I wallowed in self-inflicted misery. If anything, it is the conversation with Trunks that has finally spurred me on to have a much needed discussion with my mate. For the first time since I can remember, he has put his trust in me to make something right, and for once in my life, I don't want to screw it up. Glancing over to him, I finally make a resolution in my mind about what I need to do in order to bring the woman I care for back to some semblance of the way she was before all of this happened. If not for me, then for my son.

_Okay, I was going to make this chapter a little bit longer, but I think this is a good stopping point. Next chapter: Vegeta and Bulma finally have a much needed confrontation. Will it be enough to snap Bulma out of her misery?_

_I hope you all liked this chapter. I tried to not make Vegeta OOC, but when writing a story where emotions are such a central theme, it is proving to be very difficult. I understand in the show that he doesn't show much emotional attachment to Trunks or Bulma through physical means, at least not until right before he kills himself fighting Buu. But there is an obvious attachment between the three of them. I just thought his actions fit the situation at hand. Hopefully, I didn't mangle his character too badly, because if there's anything I dislike, it is a story with a sappy Vegeta. Anyway, please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think. I always reply and I appreciate all comments._


	10. Chapter 9

_Hello again! Another update, sooner then I anticipated. This is the second to the last chapter. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think. It's fairly emotional and angsty. At least, I think it is._

_Thanks again to __Bulma and Vegeta fan__, Yari, Eterna Dragon, Morgain Croix, DarkFeenux, __jdeppgirl4__, MystiKoorime, Musette Fujiwara, kili27, WhiteLighter Princess Bulma and lucebelle21 for your continued support._

_Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of its characters._

_Chapter 9_

Vegeta

Glancing across the lake in front of me towards the horizon, I watch as the sun makes its final descent, dipping past the horizon and disappearing from view, leaving a few streaks of red and orange that reflect lazily off of the few clouds slipping across the darkening sky. Standing up from my seated position near the shore of the placid body of water, my eyes skim across the small shape of my son who is curled into a small ball, snuggled deep inside a cocoon of grass and leaves he made for himself when he tired of playing in the tepid water. His diminutive chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm as he sleeps soundly, the stress of the day along with his antics in the lake tiring him out well before he would normally be sleeping. Watching him, resentment lodges inside my throat. He is so…_so _peaceful and trusting, something I never was once I reached his age. Something that I still am not and probably will never be. Once again, I wonder…what would my life have been like had I never met Freeza? Somehow, I doubt that I would be as implicitly trusting and naïve as my son is, but I wonder if perhaps my harshness and my fear of allowing others to truly understand the man that I have become, would those things have been lessened? I don't know the answer to that and perhaps I never will. Shrugging my shoulders slightly, I push those ideas away and step towards the sleeping form of my son.

Nudging his small back with my foot, I'm careful not to disturb the nest he's made for himself, lest he wake up and start to promptly throw a fuss. It had taken him the better part of an hour to construct the stupid thing and knowing my brat, his illogical mind would be greatly disturbed if his careful yet pointless creation was accidentally ruined. In a few seconds, his large eyes slowly blink open and I observe him as he sits up, rubbing his face with his hands as he tries to bring his mind back to conscious awareness.

Standing up sluggishly, he glances over at me and then waits for instructions. Backing away from him, I walk over to a nearby tree and the clothing he had been wearing before his jaunt into the lake. Giving them to him, he slowly puts them on, yawning repeatedly while trying to push his small frame completely back into a fully awakened state. I can tell it's a losing battle and before I realize what I'm doing, I lean over and scoop him up into my arms once he is fully clothed. Within a millisecond, his arms are wrapped around my neck and his legs are securely wound around my waist. Without saying a word to me, he places his face against my shoulder and his body relaxes, telling me that he has once again found his way back to a world of dreams.

I'm still unused to this…this complete and total dependence he has on me, how easily he has transitioned from fear and uncertainty to trust once I finally began to show an honest interest him without having any strings attached regarding my assumptions of how he should behave. How he should act as a Saiya-jin Prince. Shaking my head slightly, I wrap my own arms protectively around his small body and then take off into the sky, this time headed back towards Capsule Corporation without any hesitancy on my part.

I know what I need to do, though it is making my insides burn with a feeling that I can only peg as nervousness and uncertainty. Yet I am tied to this course. I cannot stray from this path no matter how uncomfortable it is going to be for me, a person who has never once opened up to another except in the few rare instances when my mental controls where breached due to mitigating circumstances. I have never willingly acknowledged things about myself to another, but…it has to be done. And not only for my sake, to bring my world back to a sense of normalcy that has been missing for so long, but for my son as well. I cannot make any mistakes with this. Although he might never know how I really feel about him, in the past few weeks, I have realized that I can no longer ignore the fact that I have a family and that I care for them more deeply then I ever realized. That because of this caring, their rejection hurt more then I ever fathomed it would. I have to fix this, even when doing so pushes against my pride and my private vows to never allow myself to become emotionally attached to anyone after the rejection of my own father. But it is far too late for that and has been for a very long time.

Sweeping through the sky, I think upon my resolution. While Trunks played in the lake and then fell asleep near the shoreline, I used that time to think of a way to push Bulma out of her self-destructive attitude, knowing full well that whatever I say to her, she will most likely have a counter argument using my own past behavior as an excuse for hers. And in reality, she does have that right. The more I thought about it, the more hopeless I started to feel until I had an epiphany of sorts. There would be no reason whatsoever for her to trust my entreaties or me. Until my confrontation with Piccolo, I have rarely, if ever, done anything for reasons that had nothing to do with my position or myself. And even in this case, there is some motivation on my part to fix the problems we have been having because it will make my life easier and less burdensome. But truthfully, my desire to push her back has more to do with Trunks then anything else. After today, I finally have come to a realization how much her behavior has affected him more then anyone else. I can survive without affection since I have done so for most of my entire life. But he cannot and I will not have him become what I have become, even if on the outside, he appears to be less Saiya-jin and more human. Having feelings for others is what gave Kakarrot his strength, no matter how much that still continues to burn my insides. Condoning them and sneering at them was what left me at a disadvantage. I want my son to become strong and if that means having emotional attachments, then so be it.

Strengthening my resolve, I increase my speed as I shoot through the sky, my son sleeping contently against my body. Within a few moments, the lights of West City are visible on the horizon and seconds later, the city is beneath me as I wind my way back towards the place where I live. Touching down outside in front of the patio, I carefully swing the French doors open as I step back inside the living room I had exited hours before. Walking out of the room and up the stairs, I open Trunks bedroom door and step inside, careful not to trip over the debris he has a habit of leaving behind him wherever he goes. Leaning over his bed, I deposit him gently and then watch as he instinctively burrows into his covers. I know that under normal circumstances, he would be stripped out of his dirty clothing and clean bedtime garments would be procured for him, but I have neither the time nor the patience to follow through on such a protocol. Backing away, I carefully turn on the nightstand light next to his bed in case he should wake up in the middle of the night and then move the jumbled covers up and over his small frame. For once, my pride isn't nagging at me for doing such a…a _motherly_ activity as tucking in my progeny and making sure that he won't be afraid if he wakes up alone in his darkened bedroom. It feels _right _and instead of fighting against my instincts as I have the habit of doing when they conflict with my deep sense of propriety, I follow them.

I don't know how long I stand and watch his slumbering form before I start to sluggishly push my lethargy away. Perhaps it has been seconds, or perhaps it has been minutes, but whatever the case may be, standing and observing him is not going to lead me any closer towards my goal for the evening. Glancing at the clock next to his bed, I make note of the time, seeing that it is only a little past six in the evening. I know that Trunks will wake up in a few hours, hungry for the supper he didn't receive, but I decide such a thing isn't worth my concern. Instead, it should be focused on Bulma and what sort of reaction I'm liable to receive once I track her down and force myself into her company, something I haven't done since the night I found myself having a conversation with Piccolo in the depths of the desert.

Grunting slightly, I close my eyes for a moment and just…just feel the presence around me, the presence that surrounds Capsule Corporation. Slowly, I spread my awareness outward, sensing tentatively for the weak ki that slips here and there throughout the building. If I really wanted to, I could simply push my awareness into the connection I have had with Bulma ever since the time Trunks was conceived. However, such an action on my part would border on a breach of privacy, and for once, I don't want to risk pushing Bulma farther away from me then she already is. Instead, I concentrate on locking onto her weak ki signature, which is not an easy task to accomplish when everyone in the building as a ki level less then five. Bulma's ki, though, is relatively easy to pick up on. Perhaps it is because we are mates or perhaps it is because her growing misery has spread to her ki energy as well. Whatever the reason, in a few seconds, I know without any doubt where she is currently housed within the large framework of Capsule. Opening my eyes, I take in one more glance of my son's sleeping form and then quickly exit the room, making sure the door is closed behind me.

Swallowing down some of my apprehension, I tighten my lips and purposefully stride down the hallway in the opposite direction I had come from when I had brought Trunks back up to his room. She has buried herself in the basement, no doubt working deliberately on some project as a way to push her misery away from herself. And she is completely alone, isolated from everyone else in the building. Both her actions and her whereabouts bring back to me thoughts of my own behavior both after Kakarrot died and then when I realized that Bulma was carrying another child within her, this time without telling me the truth, hiding it from me because she was afraid of what I might do. In her quest to separate herself from feeling anything at all, she has taken the habits of mine that she condoned and made them her own. Yet, no matter how she continues to suffer in silence, her actions are not her own, nor do they reflect her true personality. That is what worries me the most. Just as I do not want Trunks to become like me, I do not want Bulma to end up like myself either. It has to stop, one way or the other.

Reaching the end of the corridor, I look down at the descending stairs that lead to the bowels of the place where I live. Once again, I feel edgy and uncertain, feelings I have never been comfortable acknowledging or dealing with. Yet, I cannot run away from them or hide behind a mask of indifference. This…this confrontation is something I need to do, and only I can make her understand what she is doing to herself. Only I can…because I know what it is like. I _know_, and for the sake of those that I care about, I am about to do something that is so against my pride and my honor, that just thinking about it is making my insides quake. I don't want to…but I know that what I am about to do is the only thing that has the chance of bringing Bulma back to the light. It is also the only thing that might be able to push my own demons back into the darkness of my mind, to finally release my own feelings of inadequacy and despair.

Forcing myself to take the first step of many, I place my booted foot on the top stair and then begin my descent. Faster then I would have liked, I find myself standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking down a dimly lit corridor that holds both Bulma and Dr. Briefs's private research laboratories. Striding resolutely down the hallway, I swallow down the nagging thoughts I'm having about whether or not this venture of mine will be successful. If I'm putting myself out on the line, only to be rejected and pushed away as has happened many times during my life. I quit making it a habit to expose the inner workings of my mind long ago when all it earned me was pain and suffering. I pray that this time, it will be different.

Sooner rather then later, I'm outside of the plain, steel door that connects the outside corridor with the lab that Bulma has taken as her own. The only evidence that alerts me to her presence within is the faint light peeking along the bottom edge of the door and her ki energy that is as muted as she has become these last few months. Firming my resolve, I quickly push the button that operates the door, slightly surprised when it slides open without complaint. Obviously, Bulma was not expecting to have any unwanted visitors bother her during her solitary confinement and she has not taken the precaution of locking the door from the inside. Shrugging my shoulders, I think so much the better for me. The last thing I want is for Bulma to avoid our conversation by occupying her thoughts over a decimated door. Stepping inside quickly, I avoid looking at her surprised face and close the door. Stepping away, I glance over at her and cross my arms, suddenly wondering what I'm going to say to her and how long she is going to sit there before she either screams at me or tries to get up and escape from my presence. However, I'm not going to let her leave. Not until I feel that I have done all I can do.

Instead of reacting to my intrusion through verbal barbs, as is her usual habit, her senses seem to come to her and she does what I expect: she stands up and tries to leave. Narrowing my lips, my eyes follow her movements as she pushes her papers into her desk and turns off the computer she was typing at until the second I opened the door to her private sanctuary and stepped inside. I can sense many things about her as she nonchalantly tidies up her unusually clean workspace. She is afraid. She is nervous. And above all, she is trying to contain her overwhelming feelings of despair and depression. It is also obvious that she does not want me to know these things about her and her sudden need for space is a reflection of that. Snapping a file cabinet drawer shut, she straitens herself up and then swiftly approaches me, or rather, the door that leads away from me. Reaching around my body, she aims for the control to the door, but I'm faster then she is. Grabbing her wrist lightly, I pull it away from the door, and set her arm against the side of her body without letting go.

I notice as she swallows nervously and then glances up at me with her tired and defeated looking blue eyes.

"Please…please Vegeta."

That's all she says. She doesn't yell at me or try to make me feel like scum by accusing me of hurting her, which I have done in the past. But…her tone and demeanor. In a second, I can feel my desire to speak with her starting to flee, this uncomfortable tension between the two of us eating away at me as nothing has ever done in the past. Yet, I know what I have to do and her meek and defeated attitude only begins to firm my attitude that what I am doing is the right thing to do, no matter how much it is going to humiliate and demean me in front of her. I cannot stand seeing her like this. It was her fiery attitude, if anything, that drew me to her in the first place and I want that part of her back. Not this…weak creature standing in front of me.

Schooling my facial features into my usual mask, I shake my head slightly and then move forward, pushing her body into a nearby chair. Letting go of her wrist, I back up a few paces and then settle myself in, watching as she mentally calculates how she can escape from me, from the confrontation that she knows is going to happen between the two of us. Not wanting her to get any foolish notions in her mind, I clear my throat and let some of the things I have been thinking about spill forth.

"Woman…trying to escape from the realities of the past, it is a futile battle. Trying to bury yourself in a pile of external assignments so that you don't have to feel is foolishness. And trying to extradite yourself from the remorse that you feel by pushing away others who are concerned about your welfare is not going to help you to recover from your loss. If anything, these things are going to only make you feel that much worse over something you had no control over."

She stares at me, incredulous that I, the epitome of hiding and avoiding expressing any sort of feeling or emotional attachment, am giving her advice dealing with those very things. Yet everything I just uttered to her is completely true, and it has only been through this wretched experience of having Bulma close herself off from me and the rest of her family that I have also come to realize those very things myself. However, it doesn't take long before her look of disbelief is replaced by one of anger, anger I know that I am somewhat deserving of.

"Whatever Vegeta. I don't know why you decided to come down here, but what you just told me is nothing but a load of shit from the one person I know who has never had any desire to move on from his past, let alone accept the forgiveness of others. I…I do not have to listen to this."

With that said, I gaze at her as she pushes herself out of the chair I seated her in and makes her way once again towards the door. This time, I do nothing to stop her, but before she reaches her destination, I speak up.

"You are correct, Woman. I have never desired to move away from the sins of the past. But not because of the reasons you believe. There are…there are many things that you do not know about me because my pride would not allow me to…to share them with you. You, who know me better then most, should realize this. But…I have been unfair to you. The truth is Woman, I cannot allow you to continue doing this to yourself. I have been down this path and believe me when I say that you do not want to continue along it. You are not me and you should not have to…to continue to grieve over something that you could not stop."

Slowly, she stops near the door and turns around, looking at me with surprise in her eyes, not doubt over the fact of how much those statements revealed about myself and my concern for her. In the entire time we have been together, I have never once opened up to her in this manner except after Kakarrot allowed himself to be killed by Cell. Nervously, she pushes a piece of her aqua hair behind her ear and then opens her mouth to speak.

"Why are you here Vegeta? What…what do you want?"

That is all I need. Stepping closer towards her, I close the gap between us and reach towards her body. Grasping her chin with my hand, I gently tilt it upwards slightly so that she is looking into my eyes. For once, I let her see what is really behind the mask I hide behind: my concern for her, my concern for Trunks, and the need for her to…to accept herself and to accept me as I am. None of this is easy for me. Fuck, it's probably the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life and I know that as the evening progresses, it will only become that much harder. But it has to be done. If not for me, then for her and for Trunks.

"I want you to stop running from this Bulma. And mostly, I want you to forgive yourself. I want…I need you to come back to yourself. Please."

Bulma 

Blinking into his dark, endless eyes, for once I know that everything he is telling me is the truth. He is laying his soul out for me to see and I know intimately just how difficult this must be for Vegeta. However, it isn't that simple. If it were, would I still be recovering from the aftershocks of losing Toma months after it happened? The answer to that question is no. So I ask myself, why is he doing this? What is his real motive? And can I trust him not to scoff at me if finally tell him of all people exactly how _I_ feel about what happened when Toma died? How responsible and guilty I feel over his death? Still…

"I want you to stop running from this Bulma. And mostly, I want you to forgive yourself. I want…I need you to come back to yourself. Please."

Snapping back to attention, I'm shocked. Vegeta…he never asks. And he certainly never begs and yet I have a feeling that is exactly what he just did when he spoke those words to me. He needs me to come back to myself? He _needs_ me? Sarcastically, I think back to all the times in the past when I needed him and he just turned his back to me and walked away. Even though I know that it isn't fair of me to think like that, the irrational and depressed part of me doesn't care. I'm suffering and therefore, so should he. However being forced to look into his eyes, I know that he is suffering and I also know that he has been suffering in his own way far longer then I have been. Letting out a sigh, I don't know what to do. I'm tired of feeling depressed all of the time and I'm tired of running from everyone, but I just don't know what to do anymore. Certainly, the rational part of me knows that at the very least, I should be seeking out a counselor for help, but I have become accustomed to using my feelings of guilt over my miscarriage as a sort of penance for my pride. Yet once again, my pride is what has led me to this awful pseudo life that I have been living. And for Vegeta to have to come down here and beg for me to return to the way I once was, I understand for the first time how much my behavior has been affecting everyone around me. Even someone as cold and emotionless as Vegeta.

Backing away from him, I nervously clasp my hands in front of me and wait for his next move. Yet all he does is stare at me with his deep and endless eyes. I am aware of my anxiety level starting to rise and my breathing starts to increase accordingly. Before I know it, I'm taking in short, gasping pants of air as I try to fight for control over a losing battle with a panic attack that's about to happen at any second. I can't deal with this…with _him. _Turning around quickly, I make a beeline for the door, only to be stopped by the solid and warm form of my husband. Before I can say anything to him, he lifts me up into his arms and wraps me up close to his chest. Blinking in confusion, before I know it, we are no longer in the lab. Instead, we are in my bedroom and I'm suddenly lying in the middle of my bed staring at the ceiling.

Was I dreaming that entire scenario, my depraved mind making up something as ludicrous as Vegeta coming down to coerce me into getting help? Regaining a sense of calm as my panic attack recedes, I realize when the bed shifts slightly that I wasn't imagining anything at all. Sitting up quickly, I look at the end of the bed only to see Vegeta sitting at edge, his hands tightly gripping his knees as he looks towards the wall opposite of him.

"Woman, I understand what you are going through. And I know that…that you have to want to recover from this before you can improve."

Pushing my way backwards so that my body is propped up against the headboard of my bed, it's all I can do not to laugh. _He_ knows what I'm going through? He has never carried a child inside of his body. He has never felt that sort of connection a mother feels for their unborn baby. And he certainly has never had it ripped out of him before it had a chance to live. I'm about to tell him as much when he cuts me off, turning to look at me out of the corner of his eye.

"It is true that I cannot share with you that type of loss. But I do know what it means to lose something important, something precious, perhaps more then you even realize."

Glaring at him, I let out the first words that come to my mind.

"Spare me Vegeta. I know that you know loss, having been beaten not once, but twice by Goku and it has affected every decision that you have made since you came to live permanently on Earth. I know that you feel upset about his death only because you don't have the chance to prove yourself against him, to prove that you're the better of the two. Well, that isn't even on the same scale as…as…"

Choking back a sob, I wipe away the tears that are forming at the corner of my eyes, glancing over to see what sort of reaction I'm going to get out of Vegeta.

"I'm not talking about that. It is true that I have 'lost' to Kakarrot more times then I should have and that it damaged my pride. And it is true that his death has aversely affected me for longer then it should have. However, not for the reasons that you just mentioned. But I do know loss. It has been a companion of mine since I was child. Shall I give you a list so that we can compare notes?"

Letting out a shaky breath, I try to control my outburst and watch as Vegeta's knuckles start to turn white as his hands grip his knees even tighter, his face blank of all emotions as he once again turns and stares at the wall opposite of him. I have never seen him like this before and I'm wary of what it is he plans on doing. Leaning forward, I have the sudden urge to wrap my arms around him and tell him to stop, the distress obvious in his body as he slowly stiffens before my eyes. It is an instinctual thing, this need to comfort, but it is the first time I've felt compelled to act on it since Toma's death and I wonder what about him has caused me to want to feel that sort of connection. Licking my lips, I can feel myself creeping towards him when his voice suddenly breaks the silence between us and my body freezes where it is.

"I lost my innocence against killing others weaker then myself when I was four. I lost my planet and my people when I was five. I lost the respect I held for my father when I was the same age. My…"

He stops and I watch as his body trembles, as though he is making himself remember something hideous and repulsive that he has kept hidden away even from himself. Yet, he suddenly seems go gain control and once again, his mouth opens as he shares a litany about himself that I have never once heard in the entire time I have know him.

"I lost my ability to trust my own comrades when I was six. I gave up the ability to care and to express myself emotionally out of self-preservation when I was about the same age. I lost respect for myself when I was forced…when I…when I was eight or nine. I can't…can't remember."

Looking at him, I notice that there is moisture building in the corner of his eyes and I realize how much this forced confession is costing Vegeta. And it makes me feel guilty for wanting him to suffer like myself when it is suddenly obvious to me how much Vegeta truly understands about the shit end of life. Putting things into perspective, it makes my own misery seem petty compared to what he must have gone through. Yet even with all of that, it's hard for me to just let go. Still, for once, I can't stand seeing him look like this. True, he took it hard when Goku died, but he has never once tried to share his past with me beyond the obvious, and I don't have the urge to find out what exactly the forces were that shaped Vegeta into the man he is today. Not if it's going to cause him to have an even bigger mental breakdown then what I've been going through lately.

"Vegeta…please. You don't have…"

Before I can finish my sentence, he turns his face so that we are looking directly at each other, eye to eye. Shocked into silence by the anguish laid out for me to see plainly on his face, I back away, knowing that he is choosing to share all of himself with me because…because by understanding who he truly is, I might be better able to understand myself and why he is afraid that I might end up like him.

"You see what I mean about understanding loss Bulma? Anything I have ever had has been taken away from me. You think that you truly know me? You wonder why I've…why I've never shared my entire self with you? Perhaps you think it's because I am a selfish and unemotional man. I do know that you think I am selfish, and I have been in the past and present. I cannot deny those facts. But the truth is this: trusting someone has never been something I had the luxury of having. To bare my soul would mean that I would have to have absolute trust that that person would not betray me. Even now, I don't know if you will take what I tell you and let it become common knowledge among your friends. That is a risk I must take though because I won't…I won't allow you to continue like this, sliding into misery and taking everyone along with you. You don't deserve that and neither does Trunks."

"You already know that I committed acts of genocide on a regular basis since I was child. I started when I was four and until the time I came to Earth after Namek-sei was destroyed, that was my livelihood. As a Saiya-jin elite, such behavior was expected of me. But I did…I did have feelings. I cared for my father up until the moment he betrayed me and sold me to Freeza. Soon after that, I hid whatever softer emotions I had because that was the only way I could survive the brutality of Freeza and his men. I could not be soft."

He suddenly stops and in my head, I don't want him to continue, the pain of his past warring with the pain of my own misery. I watch as he takes a shaky breath and then lets it out slowly, trying to gain control of himself but failing miserably. Still, once again, I find myself with my eyes locked on his and once again, he opens his mouth to continue with his story.

"Soft. _Ha!_ Freeza's men considered me a weakling and I was resented because of the obvious preferential treatment I received from that fucking tyrant. Well, the truth was, Freeza…Freeza liked me because I was his own pet monkey on a leash. Even though I plotted for ways to kill him, to get away from him, there was no escape because I wasn't strong enough. But that didn't stop me from trying."

"I deliberately disrespected him and taunted him from the sidelines. I found ways to make his day-to-day life hellish by disrupting the little things that happened on the ship in order to make Freeza's life easier. I know now that I was stupid and foolish in the extreme, but as a child, it was the only way I could gain some sort of control over my life."

"He figured it out eventually, who was playing him for a fool. And if there was ever anything that Freeza despised, it was being mocked by his subordinates. I was…I was eight and he punished me by…"

Pausing in his story, Vegeta licks his lips and then turns his face away from mine and I can tell whatever he's going to say is something shameful to him, something humiliating and I don't know if he will be able to bring himself to let it out. Taking another uneven breath, he focuses on his feet before once again continuing on.

"Freeza was asexual but many of his closest subordinates were not. I was too young to understand any of this, but Freeza…I have done many horrible deeds in my past, but…not like Freeza. Not to the same extent at any rate, though should I die to day, I know that I won't frolic in the afterlife like fucking Kakarrot. Still…some of his subordinates had an interest in…in boys and I was…was unique. I hated him for that. H…hated h…him…"

It's at this moment that I want to scream at him to stop. I don't want to know anymore, his point having made itself abundantly clear. His body is shaking and I can tell that Vegeta is on the verge of having a breakdown the likes of which I have never seen before and I can't understand why he has the need to finally confide in me other then to make me see how foolish I've been acting when he has had to deal with such horrifying events in his past. However, it is as if he can't stop himself, some unknown force pushing out these memories from the past and all I can do is watch and listen, powerless to make him quit.

"He would beat me and then he would…he would hand me t…to his m…m…men. Anytime h…he thought I was getting out of l…line. I…I shut myself off after that, and it helped t…turn me into an even more b…blood thirsty and completely emotionless pawn, which was what Freeza wanted. It continued until I started to lose my boyishness, and then it became a standard humiliating tale among his men. But all it did was fuel my desire for revenge and it only strengthened my conviction to never allow myself to get close to anyone, not even my own men. Not even Nappa or Raditz."

"You know the rest, how I came to Earth looking for the dragon balls. All I wanted was revenge against the ones who had mocked me, humiliated me, and had taken away everything I had ever had except for my pride. It was true that I told Kakarrot and the others that I wanted to wish for immortality, kill Freeza and then rule in his place. But the real truth was that I only half believed the tale about the dragon balls, and I was more then content to try my might against Freeza and die trying to avenge myself upon him. In the back of my mind, I don't think I ever expected to live past defeating him. But I never even got that chance, Freeza killing me before I could make my wish and then Kakarrot defeating him after turning into a Super Saiya-jin. I lost my purpose at that moment, and yet I gained one that I never expected."

Looking at him, I know that I'm crying in front of him but I don't care if he sees my obvious weakness. I…I don't care. Grabbing his hand in my own, I scoot closer to him, feeling the tenseness of his muscles through his hand.

"Vegeta, you…you don't have to go on anymore. I under…understand. Please, just please, stop."

Looking at me, he shakes his head and then pulls his cold hand out of my grip.

"Y…you have to understand Woman. I will never open up like this to you again, but you have to understand. I have never trusted others. I vowed never to show or feel any emotions other then hate, anger, and my pride. And yet, since this thing has happened to you, I have come to realize many things, most of which is how much my detachment from you and Trunks must have…pained you more then I realized. And I am telling you these things, not because I want to, but so you can understand me better and understand yourself. We both are proud and stubborn, and it isn't until something pushes us to express how we truly feel that we let ourselves go."

"I…care. No, that isn't quite true. I l…love you Woman. I do, and that terrifies me because it is a weakness for me to have such a feeling. Yet I cannot deny that fact. I have stayed on this planet, partially because of Kakarrot, but mostly because of you and because of Trunks. And as for Trunks, you were right when you said that I did not want him to end up like me. And yet, by detaching myself from him because of my own uncertainty, that's what I have been doing this entire time. You are also hurting the boy. He thinks you do not love him and he thinks it's his fault. I told him I would help you to find what you lost and that is why I am here."

Letting out a sob, I push myself towards Vegeta and wrap my arms around him, crying into his chest, all of the things he has told me taking root inside my mind. That he…he loves me. That he doesn't hate me. And…and Trunks. Oh, god. My other baby. I wonder at what my own self-preservation must have been doing to him, and for the first time, I realize what kind of a step Vegeta must have taken when he started to show an interest in Trunks. I had selfishly thought it was to make me start taking care of him, but it was for a completely different reason. Because he realized that Trunks needed him and that he needed Trunks.

I don't know how long I lay against Vegeta's chest before I realize that his own arms are wrapped around me as well, his chin resting on the top of my head. With my face pressed against him, it doesn't take me long to realize that his breathing is somewhat erratic. Leaning upward, I pull away from him and wipe my face, only to see for the second time in my life, obvious tears leaking out of the corner of my husband's eyes, spilling down his cheeks and dripping off the underside of his jaw. I can tell that having told me all this has taken a toll on him and rather then distress him even more, I pretend that I don't notice the evidence of his own emotional release. Relaxing slightly, I once again lay my head against him, this time leaning on his shoulder, letting his spicy scent and his warmth comfort me before I finally let everything out.

"Vegeta…I'm sorry for how I've been. I…I know that I'm still going to feel miserable, but I thought…I thought a lot of things that obviously aren't true."

I don't know how to proceed, but it's suddenly as though the dam to my inner suffering is lifted, and words I didn't know how to speak start spilling forth over my lips.

"I thought….thought you hated me because I didn't tell you about the baby. I thought you were angry with me because I told you to leave…when…when it happened. And when you started to avoid me…I…"

"Shhh Woman…we both have thought many things that were neither correct or relevant. That is neither here nor there and since…since you know the truth about my feelings, stop letting such ideas control you."

Pulling back slightly, I'm surprised when his hand comes up behind me and pushes my head back against his shoulder, stroking my hair softly. Speaking into his shoulder, I try to phrase what I have been going through so he understands and so I can…can let it go.

"I had…this dream. About our baby. About you and Trunks and me and…Toma. That was his name and you would have been so proud of him Vegeta. He looked like you except he had my eyes. And then he told me he was dead. I can't get his face out of my mind and…and seeing Trunks only makes me feel that much worse because his brother is dead and I couldn't save him. I keep thinking, if only I had gone to the doctor that day when I started having cramps. If only I hadn't ignored the signs because I was afraid. He'd…he'd still be alive."

Telling him all of this, it's like a small weight has been lifted off of me. That the avoidance of Vegeta and my family was only feeding into my own misery. Trying to control my tears, it's a losing battle as a floodgate of sobbing erupts out of me and onto Vegeta.

"Oh…Kami. I loved him. I w…wanted him. Why did he have to die? Why?"

"Who knows Bulma? Maybe…maybe it just was never meant to be. Or perhaps it happened as a way to make the two of us work through our own problems. I don't know. I don't even know if there is an answer to that. Why do things happen that we wish we could change? I have asked myself these questions countless times and I have never come upon an answer. I don't think that I ever will. That is just the way life is."

Somehow, his raspy words comfort me more then I thought they would. That there is no answer for why things happen the way they do, both the good and the bad.

"Just stop blaming yourself for what happened. You can ask 'what if' questions until your voice is hoarse from shouting them out to the heavens and you still will not receive an answer. Neither you nor I could control what happened to the child. Who is to say, had you heeded the warnings, the child would have been saved? You don't know that. Blaming yourself is not going to bring him back. I used to blame myself for Vegeta-sei's destruction, for my father's betrayal. Had I only done a better job of purging, my father wouldn't have sold me to Freeza. Had I not attracted Freeza's notice, his fear of the Saiya-jins wouldn't have prompted him to destroy my planet. But thinking that way never brought back my planet and it certainly did not help to become stronger. The same can be said for you."

He is right. I have to stop blaming myself for what happened. If not for my own sanity, then for Trunks and Vegeta. No matter what I say or what I do, Toma is not coming back. I can either continue living the way I have been or I can push away the pain and move on with my life. I know that this process to recover from the grief of losing my child isn't going to happen overnight, but I also know it is time that I finally take control once again. I don't think that Toma would want me to continue on in the vein I've been heading. Feeling the arms around me, I also realize that I am not alone in this process the way I thought I was. True, I don't know how Vegeta will act towards me once this night is over with, but…he loves me. He loves me, and I realize how knowing that fact has suddenly changed both my outlook on the future and the outlook of our relationship. I realize that things will never be easy between the two of us, but he…he has committed himself to me and to Trunks. We still have kinks we need to iron out, but I realize that through finally sharing his demons with me how much Vegeta has finally vested of himself to his family. There is no doubt any longer in my mind that he has accepted his responsibility and the feelings that come along with such an undertaking. And no matter how rocky our path is at the moment, things will work out in the end.

_Will Vegeta and Bulma continue down the path to recovery between the two of them? Was this confrontation enough to truly bring perspective to Bulma over what her depression has done to both herself and her family? Find out in the next chapter._


	11. Chapter 10

_Well, I'm back with the final chapter of this story. I hope you didn't think I was going to leave it unfinished. It's just that, with student teaching, the more I have taken over the classroom as the teacher, the less time I have had to do the things that I like, since lesson planning has taken precedence. But I decided that today, I was going to take time to do something I enjoy, but have been too tired to indulge in: writing. I'm sure most of you don't want to read an extremely long author's note, so on with the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z or any of its characters._

_Chapter 10_

Bulma

Letting out a quiet sigh, I close my eyes briefly and then stand, pushing out some of the tension that has seeped into my body as I begin a short journey towards the door that's in front of me. Turning around slightly, I briefly smile and say thank you and then I exit the room, shutting the door gently behind me as I leave.

It has been about three months since I finally started to make steps towards acclimating myself towards the loss of Toma and regaining the normalcy of the life I had had before that horrible event took place. Coming to the realization that I was slowly destroying myself and the family I already had responsibility for had been a wake-up call for me. I have always thought of myself as a cheerful optimist, even if that hasn't always been the case. However, the guilt and the despair over losing my unborn child had taken a toll on me, and I had been too blind to see the consequences of such self-destructive behaviors until it was forcefully brought to my attention.

Since that day, it has been a struggle to return to the way I was before Toma died. Every morning that I wake up, I'm reminded of the fact that right now, I would have been taking care of a healthy, newborn son. Still, finally trying to make the best of my loss and moving on with my life has brought me a certain amount of comfort. I have come to accept the fact that there was nothing I could have done that would have prevented losing the baby that I had desperately wanted. I don't think that Toma would have wanted me to continue harboring guilt over his death at the expense of neglecting his brother and father. And even though Toma isn't here to share his life with the family he never got the chance of knowing, I am finding out each day how lucky I am to at least have one child I can care for and nurture, something I had forgotten in the aftermath of my miscarriage.

"Ma'am? Is everything okay?"

Smiling slightly, I let my hand slowly leave the door handle and look into the face of woman, probably only a few years younger then myself. I briefly murmur yes in response to her question, feeling foolish that I have been standing in a public hallway staring off into space for the last few minutes or so. Taking a step away from the doorway, I glance back and watch as she walks in the opposite direction as I make my way towards the reception area.

I have taken it upon myself to see a counselor as a response to finally learn how to effectively cope with my loss and the stress it has put on my family. In a way, I feel ashamed to have to come and discuss my feelings with a complete stranger. However, at the same time, it has been a relief to not only spill out the horrible feelings I let bottle up inside of me in regards to Toma, but to also discuss other problems I have had dealing with the relationships I have been in. I have finally found somebody I can open up to about Vegeta and the strange relationship we have shared ever since I broke up with Yamucha those brief years preceding the Android invasion. True, I'm paying this person a lot of money for the privilege to listen to me talk, but it is nice to know that I have somebody there to listen who won't judge me or the stupid decisions I have made in the past and present.

I don't really know if these sessions have helped me to overcome some of my grief, but I have slowly started to find the balance in my life once more. I think part of that has to do with taking up the familiar routines I had had with my parents and Trunks prior to my miscarriage. Instead of dwelling on the guilt, I have been focusing the energy I wasted hiding in my room on making up to my son for my lack of interest. Overall, it has been difficult for me, but the more I have reverted back to my previous behaviors, even if they started out as being forced, my deep depression has finally started to break. I can finally see a light at the end of the deep, dark tunnel.

Opening another door, I finally step into the reception area where there are a few people waiting patiently, reading magazines as they wait for their appointments to begin. Heading towards the door that leads to the outside, I'm surprised when I see a familiar silhouette nestled behind a newspaper. Pausing, I wait silently as the figure snaps the paper back in half and throws it carelessly on the coffee table in front of them.

Rising out of the reception area chair, they walk over to where I am standing with my hand halfway inside my purse.

"Are you ready to leave or do you plan on standing there gawking like a moron?"

"I'm ready. I'm…well; my car is parked out front. Have you been waiting long?"

"Long enough to know that anyone who bothers to read Earthling newspapers would be smarter to just stick their head in a vice grip and be done with it. Let's get out of here."

Smiling slightly and trying to contain my laughter from bubbling over, I watch as Vegeta steps past me and opens the door, waiting politely for me to walk through it. Closing the door behind us, I glance over as he sticks his hands inside the front pockets of the jeans he's wearing, looking slightly uncomfortable and unsure of himself while at the same time, trying to make out as though he's as cool as a cucumber. Maybe I pick up on his discomfort simply because I know him, but it isn't like him to make a point to pick me up from anything, be it an appointment or something else entirely. So to say that I'm surprised by his appearance is an understatement: I'm shocked. However, at the same time, I can feel a sort of glowing happiness deep within my heart, something I haven't felt for a long time.

Stopping next to my car, I put my hand back inside my purse, fumbling around for my keys before I pull them out and unlock the car. Walking around to the other side, I motion for Vegeta to get inside. I'm about to open up the door and slip inside when I notice that he's still standing next to the curb with his arms crossed, looking as though he's mentally debating whether or not it's safe to get into the same vehicle as me.

"What's the matter? I promise not to kill you in a car accident, if that's what you're worried about. Besides, with your Saiya-jin abilities, you'd get out of it without a scratch."

He looks over at me and shakes his head in mild irritation.

"That's not the problem Onna."

I think to myself what exactly the problem could be. Shrugging my shoulders slightly, I look over to where he's standing looking slightly indecisive. Unconsciously, I cross my arms underneath my breasts and jiggle my car keys impatiently; waiting for him to come to whatever decision he has balanced at the forefront of his mind. I can see him visibly clear his throat before he looks at me and cocks his head to the side.

"Let's go for a walk."

Raising my eyebrow at him, I nod slowly and then decide to encapsulate my car. I have no idea what Vegeta has brewing inside his head, but I don't want to lose this feeling of connectivity with him by saying something or doing something that will damage some of the repair I have seen develop in our relationship this past couple of months. Pressing the button on the side of my car, I watch as it disappears and drops to the ground with a clatter in its miniscule capsule case. Picking it up, I throw it carelessly inside my purse and then turn to follow my husband as he starts to walk down the street, his hands still deep inside his front jean pockets.

We walk for a few blocks in silence, simply enjoying each other's company without having to verbally express anything. In the last few months, while Vegeta hasn't really changed the frequency he spends his time with me, the tension that had been eroding our relationship for months even before I became pregnant with Toma has almost completely vanished. Inwardly, I think that it has to do with the fact that Vegeta has finally let go of some of the issues he's had since he was a small boy by finally opening up about his past. We haven't spoken of it since that night, but the change that has overcome him is obvious to me. For the first time, I can tell that he truly does trust me and that he cares about me, loves me. And because of that, I want our relationship to mature, to expand beyond the premise that it was formed on: as a way for a lonely man and an equally lonely female to find physical comfort with one another. I don't want to ever let go.

After a few more minutes of silence, I follow Vegeta as he turns a corner and then heads towards a gate that leads to the park not far from Capsule Corporation. It's near midday and I know that Vegeta must be hungry, but instead of heading towards a nearby food stand selling concessions, he travels towards the center of the park. There are a few people milling about: couples holding hands out for an afternoon walk and parents walking along, pushing their small children around in strollers. I can feel a part of me that wants to cave into the sadness, thinking that I could have been like some of those parents, pushing my own baby in a stroller, enjoying the beauty of the afternoon. Instead, I focus my thoughts on the man standing next to me and why he felt compelled to pick me up from my appointment and bring me here.

Within a minute or so, Vegeta turns off the beaten path and heads towards a pond that is located somewhere near the vicinity of the heart of the park. It's amazing to me that he seems to know so much about this place, but then I remember he's been taking Trunks here nearly every day. I wonder if he's taking me to one of the few places he finds sanctuary away from the bustle of Capsule Corporation and the demands of his family, and that warm feeling in my stomach returns. Part of it, I know, is because before Vegeta confronted me, it was as if a wall separated the two of us. I would share things about myself but Vegeta would never return the same favor, excluding himself from me except for when he needed something or felt compelled to have some sort of physical company. I understand the reason for this now, but I also realize that continuing to share some of his innermost secrets, things he never felt safe enough to confide in me about, has to be a continued ordeal for Vegeta and it only points out how much his willing to risk by finally putting his trust in me. It's a wonderful feeling to finally be needed and accepted by the man that I love, but it also is terrifying because I want so badly for this to continue on and not fall into a heap of ruins.

Blinking slightly, I almost run into his back when he stops abruptly, my thoughts having taken hold of my common sense. Halting, I can feel my body starting to tilt forward as I struggle not to fall against him. However, Vegeta has always seemed to have a sixth sense about me, even before we started having a relationship. Turning around swiftly, he reaches out for me, letting me fall against his chest and holding me up with his arms securely wrapped around my torso. Licking my lips, I tilt my head up slightly, my eyes locking with his. I can see faint amusement in their depths at war with the very sarcastic looking smirk plastered across his lips. I know he's going to says something insulting, but for once I can tell that whatever he's going to say is to only make light of the situation, not to intentionally make fun of the many faults of mine he has had the unfortunate habit of pointing out in the past whenever he would try to make himself out as more superior to me.

Once again, I find myself surprised when he pushes me back upright and lets go, turning around without saying a word before he settles himself in a seated position underneath a nearby tree. Trying not to gape, I follow his example and sit down next to him, careful to leave some space between the two of us. Folding my legs out in front of me, I fidget with my hands and glance at Vegeta out of the corner of my eye. He has his back against the trees, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes half-lidded as he looks towards the pond in front of us. I can't figure out why he would bring me here, but I try to my best to not think about it. Instead, I concentrate on just being alone with Vegeta, sitting peacefully and just enjoying his presence next to me.

Closing my eyes, I lean sideways and find myself resting against Vegeta's shoulder, the warm sunlight making me drowsy. Part of me knows that he doesn't like close contact with anyone unless he initiates it, but he doesn't push me away. Instead, I feel his arm wrap around my waist and I let my own sleepiness take over, feeling safe and secure in his embrace.

Drifting off to sleep, pleasant thoughts invade my mind. Thoughts of Vegeta, thoughts of Trunks and…. and something more. I try to reach out and grasp it, but before I can catch the fleeting thought at the edge of my consciousness, I can feel something shaking me gently. Opening my eyes, I shade them from the bright sunlight with my hand and then push myself forward. Blinking a couple of times and swallowing some of the dryness in my mouth away, I turn towards where Vegeta is still seated. There is a vague feeling of déjà vu, seeing him seated next to me underneath a tree, clad in a pair of tight jeans but I know that in this case, there won't be a Trunks or Toma running towards us for a picnic. Containing another wave of sadness, I rub my arms absently and then feel embarrassed when my stomach gurgles. Even though I don't have a Saiya-jin's metabolism, I also get hungry and I know it's been hours since I have eaten anything. Glancing over at Vegeta, I can see his eyebrow cocked at me and I turn red underneath his scrutiny. Throwing a leaf at him, I mutter a curse underneath my breath.

"What was that Woman? I couldn't quite hear you."

Chuckling slightly, I just shake my head at him.

"And you complain about my insatiable hunger, yet who is the one to need satiation first?"

Again, he has his typical cynical smirk on the corners of his lips, but his eyes are distinctly soft as they watch me to see what reaction I'm going to give him. Noting the contrasts present in the man who is my husband, I playfully smack him in the arm, something I wouldn't have dared to do in the past.

"I have a feeling your insatiable hunger was quenched by my mother's cooking before you decided to come and get me from my appointment."

He tries to hide the truth, but I can see a small amount of sheepishness poke past his passive and controlled features.

"There's no use denying it Vegeta. It's the only thing that would explain why you didn't stop at the concession stand to buy all of the hotdogs in the cart when we got here. But unlike you, I haven't had anything since my granola and yogurt at breakfast and it has to be well past noon. Since you invited me on this date, it's only polite for you to treat me to lunch."

Letting that comment hang in the air, I watch as he struggles to think of something to say about it.

"This isn't a…a date. Saiya-jins don't…date. Besides, our relationship is beyond that ridiculous social custom."

Smiling at his rebuttal over my statement, I start to stand up. Before I make it onto my knees, Vegeta bends over and grabs my hand, pulling me upright and up against his chest once more. Blushing slightly, I'm surprised when his hand finds my chin and tilts my head so that we are looking into one another's eyes. Being close to the same height, it isn't hard to do so, but the effect of looking into the dark pools that make up Vegeta's eyes always leaves me flushed and nervous from the sexual tension that spreads between the two of us. I try to back away, but he obviously has other ideas. I can see naked need in those eyes of his, and for the first time in a long time, I can feel that need also building inside of me. I wonder what it is between us, this chemistry that we have that always leaves me breathless when he lets me see exactly what he wants. Licking my top lip with my pink tongue, I feel his thumb rubbing along my jaw line and suddenly, without warning, his mouth is on top of mine. Trying to keep control over my desires, I let him take the lead in the dance that is our kiss until I can feel butterflies in my stomach and weakness in my knees. It's been so…so _long_ and there is no denying what both of us want at the moment. Yet here and now is not the place to share such intimacies.

Pulling away abruptly, I feel his arms loosen around me as he lets me back away. Pushing a strand of hair back behind my ears, I let out a shuddering breath, and glance over at Vegeta who is not hiding his blatant want for me, which makes me all the more uncomfortable in both a good and bad way. I know that a gauntlet has been laid down by him, and perhaps that was part of the reason he brought me here, to see how I would react should he push his desire for me out into the open after so long. There is a sense that he realizes how painful sharing physical intimacies with him could be for me, reminding me once again of what happened one night when our passions took control, only to end in death and misery. And there isn't any use denying the fact that I am afraid…but at the same time I know that such an action given to him by me would show that I have healed enough to let the possibility of another child being created back into my heart and to also show how much I truly trust him.

Stepping backwards, I pull my eyes away from him as a way to redirect the tension between us. Clasping my hands in front of me, I step around him and walk towards the pond, watching as a pair of ducks swim past slowly. Letting out a deep sigh, I think how lovely this place is in its simplicity and I can see why Vegeta would like to come here for solitude. Just being here shows me a deeper side to Vegeta that I never really thought about…that he enjoys beautiful things just like the next person, but that he has never taken the opportunity so share such thoughts with another being because of his inability to trust. To think that there is so much left for me to learn about this man is humbling, that he would share with me what he could not share with others for the majority of his life. Once again, I am struck with a heavy feeling of remorse, remorse that Vegeta has suffered so much more than I could have ever imagined. It still amazes me how he could have survived such hardships, but if there is one thing I have learned about Vegeta it is that he never gives up. Not when he has a goal in mind and purpose to fulfill.

Watching the placid water with its multitude of water lilies, I sense Vegeta's presence as he closes the distance between us, standing next to me and looking in the same direction. Clearing my throat, I turn towards him.

"Why did you bring me here Vegeta?"

He shrugs his shoulders and doesn't say anything. I didn't think that I would get an answer and the truth is, there isn't a need for one. However, that has never stopped my curiosity from getting the better of me. I am surprised when after a few minutes, he opens his mouth to answer me.

"To help you. This place…I found it by accident. When I'm…when I…"

I can tell that he still has difficulty talking about himself and his inner motives when it comes to something personally tangible and I don't want him to become stressed trying to express something in words when I know what it is that he's trying to say. Impulsively, I grab his hand in my own and squeeze it, letting him know that he doesn't need to tell me, that I already know.

"When you need to center yourself, right?"

He nods his head quickly but he doesn't let go of my hand. We stand like that for a few more minutes before he gently disengages from me and then turns around to leave. Following behind him once more, we start back towards the main path when he stops abruptly. Not facing me, he starts to talk.

"If you ever need…if you ever have the need to spend some time alone, you can come here."

Yet again, I find myself surprised and pleased about the gift Vegeta has just given me, to see the growing tenderness within him, although I know he would be loathe to ever admit that he is capable of such a feeling. Smiling, I catch up with him and tell him thank you, watching as he nods stiffly before he starts to walk, his hands once again tucked deeply inside his jean pockets.

The walk out of the park is as silent as the walk into it but I don't mind. Again I realize that with Vegeta, sometimes talking is nothing more then wasted words that convey no true meaning. It is enough for me to just be with him, especially since he has chosen to spend his spare time with me instead of training in his gravity room. We close in towards the entrance when he shifts direction and heads towards the same concession stand we passed when we first entered the park. Pulling out a wallet I gave him years ago from his back pocket, he takes out a few zeni and stiffly asks the man behind the counter for a hot dog with no mustard, extra ketchup and jalapeno pepper slices along with a small diet cola. Widening my eyes slightly in surprise over the fact that he knows my hot dog preferences so well, I grab the proffered food and thank him with a warm smile and an impulsive kiss to his cheek. He ignores the kiss as a necessity to save face as the proud Prince of all Saiya-jins, but I can tell he's pleased. Leaving the park behind us, I contently munch on my lunch as we make our way back to Capsule Corporation.

In about a half an hour, we find ourselves back at the gate that leads to the interior of the grounds that house Capsule Corporation. Stepping towards the house, Vegeta opens the door to the inside and then waits for me to walk past him. Once inside the doorway, both of us stop and look at one another again. I can still see the need deep inside Vegeta's eyes and I realize that I have to come to a decision. Pushing back my fear and uncertainty, I smile shyly at him, feeling like the awkward, loud-mouthed teenager I was when I lost my virginity to Yamucha years ago. Clearing my throat slightly, I think about what I'm going to say.

"I have some work I need to do in the office. Bureaucratic crap in order to wrap up the housewares line renovation project. And I promised to take Trunks over to Goten's for a few hours. I haven't seen Chi-Chi in a while…Um, I'll be…I'll be free around nine?"

"Nine? Hmph…I suppose I could train in the GR until then. Your place or mine?"

I blush uncomfortably, feeling Vegeta's gaze scrutinizing my body.

"Um…well, about that. I mean, well…it's our…shit."

I run my hands through my hair, feeling so…so _stupid._

"It's our shit Woman? That's repulsive."

I laugh in embarrassment over how ridiculous my comment obviously sounded to Vegeta. The truth is that up until this point, Vegeta has continued to remain in his own room and I have been too uncomfortable to invite him back after I inadvertently kicked him out due to my depression. Trying to rectify the situation, I back up a bit and try to fix my mistake.

"That isn't what I meant. I guess what I was trying to say is that my room is…well, it's our room if you want it to be. I mean you don't have to keep staying in the guest room next door, that's all."

He nods his head and then turns towards the hallway, heading away from me towards the gravity room where he will no doubt work off some of his tension. Leaning against the wall, I let out a little sigh and try to get my thoughts in order. I'm…I'm happy about how things are between Vegeta and myself and I think he feels the same way. Stepping away, I hum slightly to myself as I also make my way down the hallway to work that calls my name and also helps to relieve my brain of silly thoughts that I have no need to worry about.

Vegeta

Many hours later…

The lights are off and the darkness of the night encompasses the room that I'm in, with only shadows visible as they dance quietly along the walls. Rolling over onto my back, I put my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling, the gears in my brain whirling as I think about this particular day and all the days before since I confronted Bulma and told her things about myself that I have never told anyone. Not even Kakarrot when I lay dying before him on Namek-sei, telling him to avenge our people and to rid the universe of Freeza.

That night…that night had been the most difficult night of my life, telling Bulma my most shameful of secrets. Telling her that I, the mighty Prince Vegeta, and once been the victim of abuse. All my life I have always desired to appear strong and unbendable. To bear such a humiliating tale in front of her and to break down completely like that, for a few moments, I showed her everything that has shaped me into the man I have become. I feared that she would scorn me or turn away from me in disgust, but she didn't and because of that, I finally realized how much I could actually trust another being besides myself. To have such a weight lifted off of me, it has led me to feel almost like a different person. True, I will never find it easy to express my thoughts or feelings explicitly like Bulma has the habit of doing, but for once, I am not fighting this change that has been slowly overcoming me since Kakarrot's death: that I am capable of feeling and having such attachments to people like Bulma is not necessarily a bad thing.

I've spent so much of my time alone during my lifetime, to finally find someone who genuinely cares for me is not something I'm going to try to throw away anymore. Especially after seeing what it was like when Bulma isolated herself from both the brat and myself. She keeps me centered and she gives me a purpose. And I love her, even if love is still a highly overrated emotional sentiment in my opinion. At least the way humans constantly make it out to be. However, that is not how I feel for Bulma nor would I ever wish it to be. She infuriates me and at times she puzzles me, but the fact that she cares about me has always been obvious, even before we first found ourselves sharing sexual favors. I used to scorn her obvious affection even to the point where I would make her cry because I did not want such a dangerous attachment and the complications that would inevitably occur. But who suffered because of my assumptions? Certainly Bulma and my son did, but I have come to the realization that I also suffered as well. I did not want attachments because I did not want them to be taken away from me. Yet, up until recently, I haven't really been living, only letting life take me along without doing anything to progress beyond my fucked up past.

Rolling over onto my side, I glance over at the body lying next to my own. Bulma…

She has her back to me, the sheet covering the both of us having slid past towards her waist, exposing her creamy shoulders and the curve of her spine. Her hair is draped across her pillow and I watch as her shoulders rise and fall in a steady rhythm telling me that she is asleep.

I can tell that she still suffers from the loss of the child. Yet, the change in her since our confrontation a few months before has become obvious. No longer does she hide herself from Trunks or myself. The light that had been snuffed out before is back and even though I know she continues to feel guilt over her loss, she is almost back to the way she was before, except that she doesn't have the weight of wondering about what I feel or what I want in regards to her. She knows that I have put my trust in her and that has made all the difference between us. True, I still find myself floundering when it comes to her and to Trunks, but its easier to let go of a portion of my pride, enough that I can take my son and his idiotic friend to the park, or make a point to spend time with Bulma even if it requires dressing like a stupid human and mingling with the inferior masses of this mud ball planet.

Moving in closer towards her body, I breath in her sent and kiss the top of her head, feeling the silkiness of her hair sliding across my lips. She gave herself freely to me tonight and for that, I thank her. I don't even think she realizes how important her answer was when she agreed to this. It has shown me once again that she trusts me as I have come to trust her. We are a pair and we are inseparable and joining bodies, although originally intended as a diversion away from our loneliness and isolation, has become so much more then just a physical manifestation of the pleasure found between a man and a woman. There is a significance attached to the act of mating with her that I have come to associate with over the years. For a long time, it was the only way I could show her how I really felt about her, even when I still didn't understand what those feelings were. It still terrifies me, this idea of loving a person to the point where I will make sacrifices for them. However, I am once again reminded about how pointless life is if there is not a significant reason for living. Bulma is my reason and I won't ever let her go.

Letting out a deep breath, I press in close to her and pull the sheet up and over the two of us. Absently stroking the side of her body, I wonder where I would be had she not been there after Kakarrot's death. I still feel some guilt harbored deep within me that Kakarrot was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the people of this planet and I was unwilling to do so. I still don't know if I would be as brave or foolish as that baka, but I hope that if anything should happen to my small family, I would be willing to make such a sacrifice as that idiot. However, as I told Bulma, there is no use in continually thinking about the what ifs, and if anything, the end of this ordeal has made me realize that continually wallowing in self-imposed torment won't get me anywhere either. Kakarrot would not want that of me. Instead, he would want me to become even stronger so that should we meet again, we can finally put an end to our rivalry. Bulma would also want me to get stronger, and so for her, I am willing to make concessions I never would have imagined myself making.

Thinking of these things, I lean in closer to her. Finding her hand, I wrap my own in hers and allow myself to share in the closeness of her body. Rubbing my cheek against hers, I whisper something into her ear that before our confrontation, I had never uttered to her even though I had heard her say it to me countless times. Before this ordeal with the loss of our child, I didn't believe I was capable of feeling such a thing and I was afraid of it. True, I am still uncertain about it, but I refuse to live in the past. Not anymore.

"I love you."

I can feel her stir against my body, which is pressed intimately against her backside, but I have no intention of waking her from her sleep. She needs her rest and so do I. Backing off slightly, I still keep my hand twined in hers and I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to finally take me. Just when I'm at the verge of falling asleep, I hear her murmur something to me.

"I love you too."

It is enough.

_Fini. After many, many months, the journey between Bulma and Vegeta is at an end. I'm sad but happy at the same time. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing when I finally had time to actually sit down and hammer out a chapter. Thanks for everyone who has supported this story and given me so many reviews! You don't realize how much that means to me!_


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